


Ricochet

by Ser_Renity



Series: Post-Canon [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Gen, Goes off-canon around chapter 650, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, NOT a love triangle, No OCs, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sexuality and Gender Headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 177,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Renity/pseuds/Ser_Renity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside the wasteland lives a king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. everything and the rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys and welcome to wasteland.doc.  
> ABOUT THE ANGST:  
> Everyone is different when it comes to that sorta thing but there will be some gore in here. I'll try to tag the more specific things, such as strangulation, in the chapter notes.  
> However, I'd like to say that this is not an angsty fic inherently. It starts out like that, there is angst all throughout, but this is a fix-it, not a "oh better make it even worse than canon". I wanna do right by my favorite characters and a gratuitous tragic ending will never be part of that.
> 
> ABOUT THE CHARACTERS: This is a long fic and not everyone will be in every part of the story! It is Grimmjow for almost all of it but some of the others I tagged might only show up later or right in the beginning and then not for a little while. I do try to only tag those who play a major role in the fic, though.  
> There are some in this who are very important but don't show up as much as the fans would probably expect in a fic with their name on it. That includes like, the whole human crew and a few shinigami.  
> There are also some, especially the Quincy I named up there, who are not very popular with the fandom but very dear to me so I'd appreciate it if you kept an open mind about it. Maybe my interpretation will have you fall into Quincy hell, too, maybe it won't achieve anything quite so dramatic. We'll just have to find out.
> 
> ABOUT THE SHIPS: As it says in the tags, this is not a love triangle fic. This is not about jealousy or having to choose or tragedy.
> 
> Part 1 starts with chapter 1, part 2 is chapters 19-31 and part 3 goes up to the ending of the story. 
> 
> This fic will start out as very confusing (or so I was told) but I promise everything will become clearer as stuff goes on! A lot of it is told through flashbacks that won't come into play as much until part 2. I hope you will give it a chance even though it might appear as only absolute vagueness at first.
> 
>    
> Other than that, I just want to thank you for your patience and I hope you join me on this longfic adventure!

* * *

 

 

You loved the sound of the pouring rain.

  
It was high up on your list of things that Hueco Mundo had not had, not even with the artificial sky of Las Noches and Aizen’s control over everything below it.

  
Now there was too much of it, sometimes, too much of the sky and too much of the rain.

  
In this quiet moment it was just enough.

  
You blinked slowly and your lashes scratched across the sand where they left small ridges like a field ready to be tilled. The ground adapted to your body around here, took form and cradled you like an embrace. It was a good feeling, a safe feeling, even in the night and the cold.

  
You looked up with bleary eyes, checked if the tarp that provided little shelter from the rain was still there. You were out in the open, no wall to press your back against and no one to stand guard. But then that was how it had been for a while now, ever since-

  
“Oy, Jaegerjaquez,” someone called out to you, “Wake up!”

  
Sleep did not come easy and you tried to enjoy every precious moment to the fullest. With others around you and the constant threat of their presence there were no hours spent comfortably. You sneered. Life as an Adjuchas had been similar, if not the same.

Sand beneath your paws, a dark sky above you.

  
Now the world smelled differently, clean and cold. It still learned how to be alive after centuries of barren earth and empty skies.

  
“Jaegerjaquez, get your lazy ass out of there!”

  
You rolled on your back and looked up, wishing your eyes could be blind for just a moment longer. It was a strange feeling to finally sense that void in you, to imagine a body with a heart and a brain and tear ripped in its middle. Veins transported blood and lungs took in the air and your body felt like it was sinking even when you jumped.

  
A kick to your side told you that you had stalled long enough.

  
“You can pretend to be dead all ya want, you’re not gonna get out of this so easily.”

  
The grating voice rang in your ears, repeating the words you had heard a million times and only fully comprehended once.

  
“Fuck off,” you mumbled and ran a hand through your hair. A second later your fingers were roughly pulled away, sharp nails digging into your skin. They dragged you along just for a second. It could hardly get more humiliating, your back torn open by the sand, the fingers of your left hand digging into the ground in an attempt to resist.

  
But they pulled you away from your safe place and dragged you out into the rain. Within a moment your hair, your clothes, the bare skin beneath were all drenched.

  
“It’s our turn again, Jaegerjaquez.”

  
You ignored the voice even as you were pulled back on your feet and roughly shoved forward. Every instinct told you to fight, kill, destroy- but this was not the time.

  
Outside the makeshift shelter and its outskirts you had made use of there was nothing obstructing the view. The sky was deep red and you looked up as soon as you regained your balance.

  
Raindrops landed on your tongue as you opened your mouth, breathed in, breathed out. They dripped down your eyelids into the ridges of your mask. It had not even been an hour since you awoke and that was after only a few sporadic seconds of sleep throughout the day. In a few minutes it would be night and your body protested.

  
“You look like shit.”

  
For the first time you turned and deigned them a look.

  
“Shut up,” you muttered and blinked away the water dripping into your eyes. It took little effort to walk on the white sand, your boots sank in but this was your specialty- the desert was still yours, even after all this time.

  
Laughter grated on your nerves, shrill and sardonic.

  
“This isn’t the winter war anymore, Grimmjow,” Luppi told you and waved his long sleeve at you as he chuckled, “And you’re not an Espada.”

  
He walked closer, barely reached up to your shoulders. His steps were just as careful, just as practiced. It was difficult to imagine there was something you shared.

  
“Why so glum, hm?” Luppi asked as he stopped in front of you. The fabric scratched across your skin as he reached up to your face.

  
Inside you there was little but the thirst for revenge as his fingers pressed down on your cheek. An endless well of rage to drink from.

  
“Pretty boys like you should smile,” Luppi said and grinned at you, “Or who knows what might happen to them.”

  
And even as you held still he saw the look in your eyes, felt the anger reverberate in your ribcage where it sat, quiet and restrained.

  
“Oh, you want to kill me real bad, don’t you?” Luppi whispered and licked his lips, “But you just can’t, you poor little Hollow, you.”

  
What separated anger and hatred for you was not only their effect, but also their cause. Anger was a constant, a reassurance, a way to deal with what was too much for you. Hatred stemmed from humiliation, shame, pity.

 

You exposed your teeth to him as a threat, made sure he saw their sharp edges and the blood that rinsed them after you bit your own flesh.

  
Luppi winced and leaned backwards just slightly, enough for you to notice. Then he laughed again, his thumb on your upper lip.

  
“Yes, that’s what I like to see,” he said and tugged you down until you were on the same level, “Howl for me, kitten.”

  
Lowered onto one knee you still met his eyes, stayed quiet, let the look on your face speak for you.

  
“I like my fracciónes fierce and pretty, Jaegerjaquez,” Luppi told you and smiled serenely, “So behave.”

  
Then he shoved you away, sent you staggering across the sand. You did not fall.

  
“Let’s go.”

  
His command was sharp and serious, the playfully sadistic mood all but gone.

  
The sky was red tonight. You followed him as he walked into the desert. Behind you, Las Noches began to move.

 

* * *

 


	2. Instrumental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 doesn't have "Luppi" as an archive warning yet but they really should. It would be ticked for this one. Just an fyi.
> 
> Chapter 2! Where things are looking gloomy. What a surprise.
> 
> Warnings for non-sexual abuse.

* * *

 

 

_“Look, I dont wanna tell you how to think or how to live your life because you are your own person, but sometimes it’s better to wait for a perfect opportunity, okay?”_

 

* * *

 

 

“We don’t need mercy,” one of the Quincy said where she paraded around a blazing fire, “What we need is Arrancar like this one. We need monsters.”

  
A monster, you thought, what a human concept to use.

  
The Quincy pulled an Arrancar close to her by the cuffs around her wrists, hauled her up onto the platform.

  
You watched from below, crouched down in the shadows of Las Noches’ west wing. It towered above you still, the fortress of the would-be-king, a wall of white as a stark contrast against the auburn sky. It always changed; the only indication it was early.

During the day it was oil-black. When you were first thrown out here again it reminded you of coffee; of learning how to tell the time at all.

  
The Quincy on the makeshift stage before you tugged on the Arrancar’s arm, exposed the hole in the elbow.

  
“There’s a way to test them!” she howled and retrieved a glowing dagger from her sleeves, “Too see how far they’ll carry us!”

  
You watched as the blade ran the Arrancar’s Hollow hole through and began to tore away at the sides. The screams did not faze you, but even as you craned your neck you couldn’t make out the details of what happened. There was blood pouring down onto the sand, its smell pervaded the air. Your fingers curled into the edges of your shirt. There was a tremor running through you as the scent grew stronger.

  
On the platform the Quincy was coming to an end; her words slowly lost their edge and she bid the others farewell, the many who had come to listen to her speak. You counted about thirty Quincy and the same number of higher Arrancar- they raced to the stage to feed as soon as the corpse was dropped.

  
Crunch, one less bone to worry about. Snap, a spine pulled out.

  
Hollow teeth were built specifically to tear away at flesh and wound the prey so it couldn’t run; so when you gnawed on their skin and gouged out their eyes they could still be alive. Just motionless, stopped, ready for slaughter.

  
What you felt now was hunger.

  
Aizen fed you condensed reishi in the form of pills but no matter how hard he tried to extinguish the seering feelings of starvation a Hollow knew so well, they would never truly go out.

  
You stared at the Arrancar who still stuffed the remains of their kin into their unhinged jaws. It wasn’t the flesh you needed, not the tendons or muscles or blood. What you crushed everyone in your path for was their souls, their strength, their right to evolve.

  
So even now your legs twitched and drool formed beneath your tongue until you swallowed. It was still there, the instinct, the urge.

  
“Fracciónes shouldn’t be here.”

  
The voice did not surprise you; you had felt the presence ever since you moved to this spot to watch the proceedings.

  
“Neither should an Espada,” you replied and got up, “Would you look at that, we are at an impasse now.”

  
Even before you turned you knew she was not alone, accompanied by her loyal guard dogs.

  
“Grimmjow,” Harribel said and inclined her head just slightly.

  
The Tres Bestias seemed wary of you, accutely aware of every motion. They waited for you to make your move.

  
“Primera,” you answered and forced yourself to bow briefly.

  
Apacci and Rose relaxed. Sung-Sun’s reaction was harder to determine. On their exposed upper arms you saw the rugged edges of fresh scars.

  
“I heard you were sent to the outskirts,” Harribel said and her voice was even, “I didn’t realize the situation out here was quite as dire.”

  
“Look, why don’t you do us both a favor and get to the point?”

  
She did not appreciate your tone and let you know with just her eyes and the arch of her eyebrows. Her fracciónes placed their hands on their weapons’ hilts.

  
Harribel seemed to consider whether to tell you the truth or order her people to rip you to shreds. Keeping a level head was difficult as she scrutinized you.

  
“Did you know about this?” you asked her, ignoring their suspicion as you grew bored of their silence, “Those bastards are trying to get the humans on their side.”

  
The idea made you laugh.

  
“They are sacrificing Hollows for it,” Sung-Sun said pointedly, “I fail to see the humor in that.”

  
“So you didn’t know,” you said and grinned, “In your cute little castle up there. Figures.”

  
Harribel waved in her fracciónes’ direction as they prepared to strike you down for your comment. She didn’t need to do any more than that- her command was law.

  
“Something is changing up above,” she said after a while, “The nights grow longer.”

  
You stayed quiet.

  
“Soon there won’t be any delay, no breaks at all.”

  
“An eternal night, huh?” you asked and shrugged, “Sounds like Hueco Mundo all over again.”

  
Harribel nodded and averted her eyes, stared off into the distance where she knew there was nothing to see.

  
Then she turned without another word and walked away. Her fracciónes followed close on her heel, throwing you glances of disapproval.

  
You scoffed at their retreating backs. Then you went your own way, the breaking of bones still fresh on your mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Your way led you through the outskirts, the settlements set up around Las Noches in a tight circle, following its movements through the desert.

  
Humans cowered before you and tried to move their belongings out of your sight- as if you had the luxury to be interested in their petty little things. Human affairs were none of your business anymore.

  
The Quincy were not as fearful; most of them looked at you with disgust and unadorned hatred. You snarled at the ones who got too close, swiped your fingernails over a hand extended in your direction. Some of them thought they could vanquish you on the spot.

  
Arrancar made up the majority of the creatures wandering these parts of the desert, Las Noches just out of reach. Their reactions were the least predictable; some ran, others stayed and sharpened their claws.

  
Blue hair, bone teeth, sharp features. They knew who you were, had heard the stories and believed them.

  
So as you moved through their ranks, past their tents and brittle hideouts you were on edge. Fear made you twitchy, your senses overloaded. Above all you smelled the fires that kept the shadows away. When they appeared the air tasted like rust and hurt like splinters beneath your fingernails.

  
“Get back to your fucking paradise, shinigami pet!” someone howled at your side and you ducked just in time to evade the rock thrown at you.

  
It didn’t slow you down at all; one step to the side to avoid broken glass on the ground. Strewn across the sand there were a lot of things that got lost in it. You scanned the area absentmindedly even as someone else picked up your trail.

  
Their reiatsu signature was too low to pose a threat to you, but you kept it in mind, filed away among other things.

  
Balancing along the edge of a tear in the ground you spotted something in the sand. Light reflected off of it and blinded you. Everything was tinted in earthy colors due to the sky. It illuminated everything below in the absence of a moon or sun. Above there was nothing but _sky._

  
You squatted down to investigate the shiny thing underneath the sand and pulled it up with your left hand. The intricate structure of the chain moved across your skin as you wiped the dirt off the contraption and examined it.

  
It was a pocket watch; you had seen one of them before even if you could not remember where.

  
On its cover you saw small lines arranged in a pattern you didn’t recognize; as you turned it over you saw the symbol mirrored on the back.

  
The presence behind you flared like a rearing horse and you hastily shoved the watch into your pocket and jumped back on your feet.

  
Reiatsu swamped your senses and it became painfully obvious they had suppressed their power to give you a false sense of security.

  
As an Espada you would have turned and chosen to fight, but this was not the time of Espada and almost-true-never-fake confidence.

  
You ran without ever sparing them a glance, ignoring the potential threat as you pushed aside people to mingle with the crowd. To your right there were two shinigami, cloaked in black and staring at you like they considered shoving their zanpakuto into your throat.

  
Whenever they got too close you let your knuckles connect with their solar plexus. In the midst of people moving towards a shared goal no one really cared if one of them fell. You stopped fighting the pull of the stream of bodies and let them carry you for a while, passing by those chosen few that you took out of commission.

  
They were headed for a place to get food and warmth; the inviting shine of a fire flickered enticingly in the distance. A semblance of security in a danger zone.

  
It was not your destination and your path branched off after a while. Their body heat did not stay with you long after you parted, the cool air of the desert during daytime invited you back into the solitary condition.

  
Walking closer to the ends of the outskirts there were more familiar faces among those few who were awake still. Arrancar far away from human comfort, Quincy deserters and war criminals. It was the farthest place from Las Noches that was not entirely a desert by now, the outer circle and shelter for those whose name was on every arrow fired by a Sternritter.

  
The sky was darkening now and you knew it was time to rest; but sleep did not come to you as easily as it should and so you walked for a minute, a moment, another hour. By then the sky was pitch black once more- and you remembered days on a roof and the eyes of a puppet, the feeling of dread and the color of a shinigami’s hair.

  
All you had to do was hiss at one of the cowardly few sleeping on the very edge of the outskirts and they ran back to the shelter closer to Las Noches. Another luxury you did not have.

  
Out here all that counted was the mark on your neck and the ability to sleep with one eye open and a body ready to bolt. So you settled down beneath a shabby wooden panel and shoveled sand to the side so you could curl up surrounded by something like a wall. The rise in the ground fit snugly against your spine.

  
Shawlong had told you once that sleeping an hour at a time was enough and made it his mission to wake the others when they threatened to fall too deeply into a dream. He kept them alive while you led them. It was an unspoken agreement when you were Adjuchas. But through his awe and admiration he didn’t understand that at this point in time following you was the most dangerous thing to do.

  
As you lay awake for hours the weight of the watch in your pocket felt almost like a burden. You could hear it ticking away in its golden casing, one second at a time.

 

* * *

 

 

“Grimmjow!” Luppi called out to you in a sing-song voice as he rapped his knuckles against the outer surface of your hideout.

  
His voice was something to dream of; and not in the way that it was pleasant to listen to, rather because it would get stuck in your skull and haunt any nightmares. You remembered the way he said your name when Aizen first punished you for disobedience.

You heard his laugh from that time he pointed at you and called you a cripple.

  
The mark on your neck stung as Luppi continued to knock.

  
Even before he decided to bother you you had been awake. It was difficult to sleep as soon as the rain started. The only way to avoid being drenched was to shield your entire body with a constant burst of reiatsu. It built a shield around you. However, it also drained your power and didn’t muffle the sound of rain as it impacted.

  
So it happened like it always did- you stared at the bright sky as night fell, as the crunching sounds of Las Noches echoed among the dunes.

  
“Ohh, are we playing hard to get again?” Luppi asked sweetly. While you got up with slow, careful movements you recalled what it had been like to kill him, smooth flesh giving in to a single brutal slash. The thought soothed you.

  
“Ah, sleeping beauty finally joins us again,” Luppi said as you jumped to your feet and envisioned cutting him in half.

  
He kept talking as you brushed off your pants.

  
“This really is the most disgusting part of the outskirts,” when you straightened out your collar.

  
“Suits you well, then,” as you ran a hand through your hair. It was flattened against your head on one side and you rubbed at the rough patches of skin until all the sand was gone.

  
“You’re boring today,” Luppi commented off-handedly and sighed, “Come on now, there’s a job to do, buzzkill.”

 

* * *

 

 

The desert was unlike Hueco Mundo’s and it had taken you a while to get used to it. The first months were the worst; you stumbled and fell, searched in vain for a moon and crystalline trees.

  
You shivered in the cold and wiped your mouth as you felt the grains of sand stick to your lips. With a storm around you it was a challenge to see where you were going and the dust it whirled around got into your clothes and hair. Soon they stung in your eyes as well and you cursed under your breath. Everything tasted and smelled like ash; frequently you believed it was there under your skin, imprinted into your body. It felt like you spent more time in the dunes than not.

  
“A bit further north,” Luppi said cheerfully and placed his hand on your left shoulder, “Are you too weak to create a barrier now, kitten?”

  
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, but the skin stretched too thin across your hollow flesh and the scars ran a little too deep. Without souls or sleep there was not a lot you could do.

  
The hand on your shoulder squeezed down, in the middle of the storm.

  
“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Luppi whispered in your ear, “And there’ll be shinigami up ahead. I might even let you take the first bite.”

  
You shook him off and kept walking, ignoring the flimmer in the air where your reiatsu was not strong enough to hold off the sand.

  
“Starving yourself, eh?”

  
The smug comment carried you across another dune, another slide down from its peak. It had been weeks since you last fed.

  
When Luppi touched you again his grip was less lenient.

  
“Listen to me,” he hissed and pulled you down on his level, “You are my property, you see? And I am not letting you die this easily. You’re not getting out of here.”

  
His fingernails dug into the scar on your shoulder. You could feel his breath on your face, see the glee in his eyes. In your mind you took off his head, his fingers, his legs.

  
“You want to hurt me so bad, huh, little former Espada?” Luppi said like he had done every day for the last two years, the same pleased grin, “Come on. It’s so easy.”

  
You met his eyes and never backed down, stared until you forgot what pupils were or an iris. What you saw were veins and blood vessels, tissue and bone beneath.

  
“You still can’t do it,” Luppi whispered and grinned wider, “You’ve gone soft, Grimmjow.”

  
His fingers trailer up your arm, over your biceps up to your neck. There he circled the mark, his nails scratching across.

  
Your entire body was wound so tight it hurt to breathe. Whenever Luppi moved again your hand twitched towards his throat, your teeth ground down on empty air. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to leave, turn around, back away until you occupied space for yourself, could be safe in isolation.

  
Instead there were fingers prodding at your skin and you stood perfectly still, restrained and frozen in time. The touch began to hurt as he dug his nails deeper into your hierro.

  
“Isn’t there a mission you should focus on?” you managed to ask and your body trembled with fury.

  
Luppi slapped you across the face. The sound was too quiet to linger with the storm still howling. To you it was as loud as a gunshot.

  
“Know your place.”

  
A familiar order. You kept your head turned to the side and your mouth shut.

  
“Spineless piece of shit,” Luppi continued and giggled a second after he spat at you, “I should put your mouth to good use, you’re so hideous when you are allowed to speak.”

  
_Be quiet_ , you told yourself, _just be quiet._

  
The urge to scream rose inside of you, overpowered every sense and tore away at you like a rabid animal in a cage. But the desert was unfamiliar and strange, Las Noches was on the move.

  
“It will be dawn soon,” you said and your face stung.

  
Luppi scoffed.

  
“So boring today,” he lamented and patted your cheek in a patronizing manner. His fingers stroked along your jaw before he grabbed hold of it and pulled you along like a disobedient dog.

  
If anger was red, humiliation was the color of the three stars above his eye.

  
You took a deep breath, swallowed all the indignation. In the distance you saw mountains below a bright sky, the only light there was.

  
One step, two steps, into the desert.

  
That was always how it ended.

 

* * *

 


	3. Spark Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last update before NaNoWriMo starts and this becomes my personal, every day, 1.6k hell. 
> 
> Kinda thought it was fitting to update this now.
> 
> (@ viih: you tried. punching doesn't always help. luppi is eternal. )
> 
> Warnings for: Violence, non-sexual abuse by Luppi, referenced people eating

* * *

 

_“I don’t want to order you to stay. I want you to choose.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Orders from above were only ever relayed to you through Luppi or other Espada who occasionally let information slip to some of the people in the outskirts. Rumors and stories kept the shadows at bay and humans especially hungered for them.

  
“It’s not far from here,” Luppi said, unusually serious, “Three souls confirmed, two more are fading.”

  
You felt them too, human souls lost somewhere inside the storm. By now you had to walk with your eyes closed or the sand threatened to blind you. It didn’t matter; the shadows were not meant to be looked at anyway.

  
The reiatsu of the humans pulsed in your vicinity. They shone like a beacon to creatures like you.

  
“Just ordinary humans,” Luppi sneered and walked ahead, “Seems like you are not gonna feed today, kitten.”

  
As if on cue the sinking feeling in your middle intensified. It was hunger, nothing more and nothing less, the never-ending hunger for souls. Arrancar could not regress, but you needed energy, needed something to draw your strength from.

  
“Are they supposed to die?” you asked and cleared your scratchy throat.

  
“No. Apparently they have potential. Disgusting.”

  
Luppi pointed at the dune in front of you and gestured towards it with one hand.

  
“Go get them. Use force if necessary.”

  
Even as you approached the huddled reiatsu spikes you could tell there were only two strong enough to be of any use. Not that it mattered; if the order was to drag them off to Las Noches, you would. If they were meant to die, you would tear them apart.

  
Hollows were creatures of habit, driven by instincts. Yours was to adapt and survive, claw your way back up from hell if you needed to.

  
So you obeyed and you walked even if a memory told you not to.

 

* * *

 

 

When you dropped down underneath another tarp hours later your soul was fading like the humans’; only two children were left and they didn’t protest as they were hauled back to the outskirts.

  
The others were dead or consumed by the shadows. It was ironic how you felt the same now, ready to fall apart at any second.

  
Curling around the void in your stomach did not help. Luppi knew that you were starving; but it was his idea of punishment to let you rot by yourself. A test to see how far you would go.

  
One promise and just one forced you to think carefully about killing and devouring people; but as the rain stopped and the sky darkened you realized you would die if you didn’t do anything.

  
Di Roy had always been scared of dying and he told you that his first thought when you attacked him was how he wouldn’t mind being killed if it was by your hand. The others laughed at his sincerity and the admiration in his eyes. It was one of their favorite tricks; pretending to be a group before they disappointed you. The last time the did you were not prepared for them to be gone forever.

  
Your current situation was so reminiscent of their time as your fracciónes; a bunch of scared Hollows desperate to stay alive.

  
They were part of you even now and if you had been a kinder soul you would have wanted to honor their sacrifice. Hollows did not think like that.

  
So you climbed to your feet with difficulty and you went for the closest soul; a tired Adjuchas who did not see you coming. It struggled and screeched, but you went for the throat.

  
It was dawn and blood dripped out from between your teeth as you chewed and bit, swallowed down the weakened soul. After all this time it did not leave a bitter taste.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh would you look at that!” Luppi greeted you as you made your way to his position. The mark pulsated the closer you got, a throbbing heat like the wound left by a branding iron.

  
“How many did you kill?” he asked and circled around you, his fingertips brushing against your stomach, your side, your back. The tension returned to your muscles immediately. Play dead, just play dead.

  
“Stilll no fun I see,” Luppi sighed and flicked the skin above your Hollow hole, “Subservient lapdog.”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“Oh, there it is, very nice. Sorry, that’s just the way it is, little kitty. You should be grateful I am so kind to you.”

  
You remembered the way he had laughed as you screamed in agony. The way he had dug his fingernails into the edges of a wound. His words as he forced you to your knees once, making you beg for medical attention.

  
“What’s the situation?” you asked with your teeth pressed together. It hurt not to lash out.

  
Luppi cocked his head and frowned as he assessed your mental state, likely considering if further provocation would get him anywhere.

  
“A few of the potentials tried to run,” he said after a moment of silence, “Ten, to be exact. Find them and kill them.”

  
There was no storm today, just a flat expanse of sand as far as you could see. No mountains in the distance, either. Reiatsu signatures blinked into existence as you focused on them. They had barely made it out of the outskirts and traveled with moderate speed. Even if you left them to their own devices for a few hours you would catch up to them easily.

  
“I have other business now, Jaegerjaquez,” Luppi told you and laughed as you lifted your eyebrows, “Don’t worry, you’ll have company. Wouldn’t want poor former Sexta to be lonely by himself, hm?”

  
And you couldn’t remember if you had been destruction before you became _Espada_ or if being an Espada was what made you turn to destruction. All that mattered now was that they believed you were here to destroy.

  
“Where do I find them?” you asked.

  
“Ah, he’ll find you. Just head towards the targets, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  
Luppi waved you off and turned away. You could see the number on his back and it was a strange feeling. _Déjà-vu_ , as someone had told you once. The last time his promotion had led to a more satisfying conclusion. Sometimes you could still feel the spinal fluid drip on your spread fingers, the blood tingle as it slid down your arm.

  
Now you had an order and an order was meant to be obeyed.

 

* * *

 

 

Your support arrived by your side after you had taken a few steps out into the desert. Today’s surroundings were less harsh, the conditions not as dire. In terms of temperature it had gotten slightly warmer and there was no rain so those more susceptible to illnesses had a higher chance of survival. You had seen others burn the bodies before, a last attempt to find warmth before the rain set in. Without a Soul Society there was nowhere for the dead to go.

  
A spike of reiatsu at your side made it clear someone joined you on your assignment.

  
It was a courtesy, uncommon among Hollows. Due to that you were surprised to turn and see someone undoubtedly Arrancar walking beside you, his hand placed on the hilt of his rapier. Something about his appearance and reaitsu struck you as strange, but there was no time to look into it.

  
“Estimated numbers were increased to eleven a moment ago,” he said, his voice calm and even, “But none of them are above the level of a fracción.”

  
“Humans?”

  
“Quincy.”

  
Those were the only words you exchanged as a greeting. Meanwhile, the reiatsu signatures flickered and began to move. They had undoubtedly realized they would be hunted and increased their pace.

  
A day ago it would have been difficult to follow; but you could hear the foreign pulse in your ear, a low thumping that grew louder as you ran. The souls you consumed slowly merged with your power, formed an entirely new creature.

  
Your sonido was effortless again- and even more important, it was quiet.

  
The Arrancar moved by your side, precise and tranquil. You glanced at them again, then a third time. He was a little shorter than you; blond hair, brown eyes. His Hollow mask was nowhere to be seen, but it was not uncommon for them to be broken off entirely these days. Then there was his face and you narrowed your eyes as you observed him in your peripheral vision. The Arrancar’s entire face was scarred, what looked like a burn mark stretched down into his collar, his teeth exposed at all times since there was no flesh to cover them up.

  
“Your weapon?” he asked suddenly and directed your attention away from his appearance.

  
Dodging a springtrap to your left you shrugged off his question like you would raindrops.

  
“Don’t need it.”

  
“I see,” was his reply.

  
Then, “My condolences.”

  
You grunted something unintelligible, hoping he would drop the subject. Some days you still found yourself reaching for a katana that wasn’t there.

 

* * *

 

 

Fighting Quincy was different from your encounters with shinigami and humans, less instinctual and more focused on strategy. They turned your strength against you by using your spirit particles in their own attacks, so no matter how quick and clean the fight, you ended up drained and tired.

  
Fighting Quincy was also _fun._

  
_Battle_ was still what you had been trained for, it was the very essence of you. So when they challenged you and lifted their weapons it was like a spark re-ignited beneath your skin, a wildfire that spread until you had to laugh and lick your lips because your body brimmed with excitement.

  
It was a rush that felt like it could never end, even as you wiped the blood off your teeth.

  
The Arrancar watched you fight and gave up all pretense. Of course he was just here to make sure you got the job done; as if there was a choice.

  
The blood in your mouth was your own. Biting your tongue didn’t hurt as much as you thought, but the metallic taste was distracting, the numbers of your enemies only slowly dwindling.

  
“Die, Hollow scum!” they cursed you as you descended upon them. Another one laughed.

  
Even after all this time there was something exhilarating about eliminating threats; killing meant surviving meant earning the crown for another day.

  
So when you blocked an arrow, dodged a blade, there was no hesitation. Your blood boiled as you spilled theirs. In the end they were still human and you were Hollow; a force that drove straight through their defenses. No matter how fast they were, no matter how vicious their attacks, they did not go for the throat. Their clawed nails never ripped into the iliac artery located in the thigh, their kicks never broke their enemy’s ankles to immobilize them.

  
It was something you remembered well, a diagram of a human body and everything slumbering beneath the surface you could make use of. It was something you could not forget.

  
The Arrancar watched you move with deadly precision and against all better judgment your pride surged as you took in his shock.

  
“I fought with no fucking energy all this time and survived,” you muttered under your breath, “How the fuck did you think that happened?”

  
He finished off the last one, disapproval clear in his eyes. Some of them still believed they were superior because they used tools to kill and didn’t dirty their own hands; as if that made it better or the bloodstains less visible.

  
“You can hold your own in a fight despite your injuries,” the Arrancar said with no small amount of appreciation, “I am impressed.”

  
“Keep it,” you replied and wiped your mouth, “Tell your boss I’m doing fine and fucking shut up.

  
“There is no need to be hostile, I was simply going to suggest you consume their souls in order to speed up the healing process.”

  
“Oh, drop that polite act already,” you snapped and narrowed your eyes, “You ain’t fooling anyone, Tesla.”

  
He stayed silent, his face turned away from you. You wondered if it was shame that kept him from looking at you.

  
“So you knew,” he said and nodded, more to himself than anyone else, “I predicted as much.”

  
“Did Nnoitra sic you on me?”

  
Tesla grimaced and the caricature of a face he wore moved like the flesh tried to spill over its edges.

  
“Nnoitra is dead.”

  
It made you laugh and he stared at you with poorly hidden disgust as your entire body shook and trembled.

  
“That’s great,” you jeered, “Just great. So I get this for disobedience and he dies because he tried to kill me? What a fucking joke.”

  
Tesla subconsciously reached up to touch one of the scars along the mangled remains of his ear, rubbed the raw skin.

  
He hesitated a second too long and you connected the dots.

  
“Ah,” you said and your laughter ebbed away, “So you were punished for that. Sucks to be you.”

  
There was a blade at your throat within a second, scratching the hierro until it almost sawed through to the flesh. It didn’t impress you very much even as your pulse raced against the rapier’s edge.

  
“What Espada are you with now, huh?” you asked and grinned, “Following another piece of shit around?”

  
Tesla pressed his lips together.

  
“They are watching you, you know,” he said then, ignoring the question, “Waiting for you to explode. You’re a ticking time bomb and they want you to snap.”

  
As if that wasn’t obvious; as if the mark on your neck didn’t tell you exactly how expendable you were. A wild animal in a cage, spinning around to entertain the greedy onlookers. Their applause grew louder the angrier you got, the more often your jaw clicked shut around the bars.

  
“The job is done,” you snarled and reached up to push the blade away from you, “So go report and leave me the fuck alone.”

  
Tesla caught your wrist and shook his head.

  
“You misunderstand, there is no-”

  
The arrow tore through his chest and only his sternum saved you from being pierced as well. Tesla’s body slowed the projectile down and you stepped to the side just in time to see it brush past you.

  
Within a second you had dropped Tesla’s body and vaulted over his prostrate form in the direction of the attacker.

  
One of the Quincy had stayed alive long enough to fire one last arrow, his broken arm held above the ground by a technique you encountered before. They forced their injured limbs to keep functioning with no regard for pain or long-term damage.

  
Torture had never been your strongest suit. The Quincy died quickly, her neck snapped like a twig.

  
Behind you Tesla wheezed and sprayed the sand with blood. You stood among the carnage.

  
_It all went to shit so fast_ , someone had told you once. You couldn’t help but grin as you remembered it; a warm voice, a pleasant voice.

  
Blood seeped into your shoes, dripped into your eyes.

  
You kept laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

The people in the outskirts dug a hole sometimes, right into the desert and the dirt. So when it rained the water did not only turn every surface into mud, it also gathered in one spot. It wasn’t meant as a source of drinking water, there was no shortage of that with the downpour hitting every inch of the place. Those who needed it kept any available receptable out and collected the water. Some of them fell ill, others didn’t. You had seen humans with swollen lymph nodes and skin red from scratching, flocking together because the fear of infection was stronger than any solidarity. It was no good time to be alive.

  
You walked through the crowd in the outskirts and left a trail of blood behind. Some of the humans shied away from you, some of the Arrancar got a little too close for comfort, attracted by the smell of something freshly killed. As a hand touched your shoulder you bit down and ran. Last time you had not been as fast; last time you let them carve a bloody crest into your back.

  
The rainwater level was sinking since it was already late in the night and the downpour had ceased. There was no one else around, the water’s surface flat and its depth murky. Out here there was no time to be picky, though, water was water and cleaning yourself a luxury. In the twilight hours the pit looked more like a sinkhole, ready to swallow you whole. And it would if you weren’t Hollow- without sonido the edges were too steep and unstable to climb.

  
_You’re a very private person_ , someone told you once, _I never would have thought._

  
Modesty was another impossible concept in the outskirts. So you undressed without a word, carried your clothes with you to the water.

  
In Hueco Mundo there had been no lakes or oceans, no rain or snow. Las Noches had bath back then but nothing like this; purer water and fewer options to drown in it.

  
Without prolonging the wait you ducked your head under the surface. For a few seconds you could not see, could not hear, could not breathe. As you came back up the water around you was tinted red.

  
It wasn’t enough to wash the blood out of your clothes but it would get rid of the worst stains. Your shirt and pants were black, anyway, so it didn’t matter as much. Apart from that there was not much sense in trying to appear approachable in the first place.

  
Keeping your clothes inbetween your teeth you started to scratch the crusted blood off your skin. It was there on your chest, your hips, the back of your legs. The entire world was filthy and you were just a tiny part of it.

  
You plunged your head underwater another time, your fingers curled in your hair. All the tugging was ultimately in vain, you knew there was no way for you to get rid of all the dirt.

  
So as you came back up for air shivering and dissheveled you began to pull your clothes back on even if you were mostly submerged in the water.

  
There was no way for you to get completely dry anyway; but Hollows could not get sick like humans and so the provisional heat you sent into your skin with your reiatsu had to suffice.

  
Only as you used sonido and landed back up on the sand you felt the weight of the watch in your pocket. It was cool to the touch and you traced the lines on its lid, over and over again.

 

* * *

 

 

“No mission today,” Luppi hissed at you as you sought him out, “Go cry in a corner or something, Jaegerjaquez, jerk off to your dead boyfriend.”

  
You took in his appearance and leaned back against one of the wooden fences. Some humans insisted on distributing the land even now, even with the perimeter changing every day.

  
Luppi had a bruise on his face, a large gash that ran across his cheek.

  
“You’re injured,” you commented and wondered who you would have to thank for that.

  
“Excellent deduction, now get your disgusting face out of my sight,” he told you and pressed a hand against the injury, “Some human bitch punched me, just like that.”

  
“I am surprised they are not dead,” you said and carefully took a step back. Sometimes it was better to leave without a word, but it would always be a gamble. What behavior triggered which reaction was something you could not predict.

  
“She ran away before I could kill her,” Luppi muttered and bit his nails, “Dirty wretch.”

  
You nodded and turned, about to make your way to a safer place, a place to sleep. For a precious short moment you allowed yourself to calm and not worry for once.

  
“Actually,” Luppi called out after you, “Just a moment, _Grimmjow_.”

  
You could feel the sensation of his fingernails biting into your skin before he even touched you.

  
“You’re my dear loyal fracción, aren’t you?” he asked, “So you don’t mind sharing your strength with your master, hm?”

  
The first time he had reached inside the infected wound on your right arm you had cried out. Back then your eyes rolled back in your head as the pain set in, back then you drooled because your mouth was slack and your muscles spasmed. Agony was a strange word for something you could not fathom.

  
With time you grew more accustomed to it; to the feeling of your strength being sucked out of the wound, your reiatsu transferred into the body of your captor.

  
His other hand was on your neck now.

  
“I think you are beginning to like this,” Luppi hummed and pulled back from you. There was no cut on his face, no discoloration.

  
He laughed as you staggered away.

 

* * *

 

 


	4. abscond; decamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warning for some inexplicit gore / torture and references to mutilation. 
> 
> This fic, gdi. Getting way longer than I thought it would but what can you do, really.

* * *

 

 

_“Not everyone is your enemy. I know that’s difficult to believe and I don’t expect you to change in a day, but you have to trust me on this, okay?”_

 

* * *

 

 

You felt dirty, you felt used. Luppi’s touch lingered underneath the surface of your wound. The pain had gradually gotten better with each day until you could almost roll your shoulder without flinching.

  
Now the thought alone ached and your head spun so violently you were not sure you would make it to any sort of shelter. Nausea overwhelmed you as the infection ate away at you, violated every inch of the surrounding tissue.

  
Luppi had taken too much, out of spite and out of barely suppressed malice. You were his blood bank, a rich and supple source of reiatsu he could leech off of without fear of hurting something valuable.

  
“Fuck,” you said and it was a peculiar feeling to voice it out loud; the strength you had collected and conserved was gone, just like that.

  
You reached the ends of the outskirts like this, saw shadows watching you and closed your eyes to drown out the sound of your pulse. It drove the splitting headache deeper into your skull like a hammer would a nail, one dull shove at a time.

  
_You look like you are running a fever whenever you are exhausted_ , one of the shinigami once told you and pressed their palm against your forehead, _You should sleep._

  
And you wanted to, right there between a fire barrel and a bunch of sandy blankets rotting away. But then you would die and death was not acceptable.

  
As you used pesquisa there were only a few spikes of reiatsu lighting up before your inner vision. One was a human and very weak, another a Quincy who moved too quickly. Then there was one farther out in the desert, powerful but fleeting.

  
About ten minutes into the dunes your vision began to flicker. At first it looked as if your eyes close by themselves, a darkness looming around the edge that steadily approached the middle. You could fight it as much as you wanted but it steadily crept up on you. Unconsciousness would almost certainly seal your fate.

  
The presence was up ahead and you could almost make out its shape, tasted the reiatsu on your lips as you drew a labored breath.

  
They were weak as you approached but still conscious. A second of understanding passed between you, a wordless exchange.

  
You laughed because _wasn’t that ironic_? A familiar image, a familiar presence.

  
Memories did not make their skin as hard as steel. Memories did not poison their flesh or stop you from biting and tearing. In large amounts the metallic taste of blood began to turn bitter, the flesh around the bite wounds soppy and squishy. It was the soul you wanted so you had to dig deeper, break open the ribcage and eviscerate them. The bones stuck out like wings sprouting from the chest.

  
Their soul was mellow and wavered with uncertainty. Lonely, you thought as you ground it to dust, Confused.

  
Without water around you had to lick your finger clean; your tongue felt cold against the heated skin.

  
You wondered if the taste was different because you knew them.

 

* * *

 

 

The night was almost over as you dragged your body to the outskirts. Las Noches was still on the move but it slowed down progressively as the sky darkened.

  
You stumbled underneath the nearest tarp spanned between wooden poles. Someone had taken their time setting it up even if they would have to leave it the next day.

  
All of that was secondary to the fact that it provided shelter. The rain had started again just hours before and it kept your clothes wet and your skin cold.

  
You slumped down inside the makeshift tent, marveling at how much space there was. Sleepiness was soon replaced by bone-deep exhaustion, even if the pain in your right shoulder was reduced to a dull ache by now.

  
Your eyes slid closed and the bright colors blinked into existence as if they were imprinted into your eyelids. Everything quieted down, slowed, softened.

  
It was then you began to slip away into a dreamless sleep, fingers clenched into the sand, muscles twitching uselessly.

  
Then, suddenly, there was movement in your immediate vicinity.

  
Every instinct screamed at you to jump to your feet and kill, kill, kill. A desperate effort to survive bred a particular kind of fear, the one that kept you awake and alert at all times. It was gone now, buried and forgotten.

  
You forced your eyes open and looked up.

  
Despite the available space you had curled up on your left side with your back to the desert. For the first time you looked over to the other end of the tent.

  
Two pairs of eyes watched you closely and followed your every move as if you were a skittish animal. To them, you might as well have been.

  
They were children, you realized quickly, human children. One of them carried a cylindric piece of metal with a sharp tip. A makeshift spear if the fact that they pointed it at you was any indication.

  
You recognized them as the two you had picked up in the desert days ago; they looked the worse for wear.

  
“Stay back,” one of them told you and her voice wavered.

  
You huffed out a laugh and grinned with blinding white teeth. The fangs of your Hollow mask moved along with the ones below.

  
“What are you gonna do, huh?” you asked with a rough voice and yawned, “Kill me?”

  
“Don’t underestimate us,” the one with the dark hair and the broken nose said, “If I have to I’ll kill you right now.”

  
_If I have to_ , you thought, an idea so typical for a human.

  
“How’re you gonna find out if you have to?”

  
She shuffled a little but never dropped her weapon. There was dirt smudged all across her face and neck. Her companion did not look any better, but you supposed that was just a side effect of the outskirts. They were not the ones with clothes covered in blood.

  
“You’re a Hollow,” the one with the darker hair declared, “That generally means you’re bad news.”

  
You snorted and blinked slowly. The wet strands of your hair stuck to your forehead and you reached out with your left hand to swipe them away.

  
The brown-haired girl shifted as you did, discomfort clearly visible on her face.

  
“What’s your name?” the first one asked you.

  
It was a strange question and one you hadn’t heard in a while. Either people knew or didn’t care at all; there was not much value in a name.

  
“Grimmjow,” you said and it sounded weird to you after all this time, “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.”

  
For a second you thought recognition passed through the brown-haired girl’s eyes. She reached and tugged on the other’s sleeve, whispered something in her ear.

  
“Why are you out here?”

  
There was no real reason to lie to them; it was public knowledge, nothing to left to exploit if it was exposed already.

  
“Perks of being a war criminal,” you answered and yawned. Your headache was still there and so was the tension. They were kids but that didn’t mean they couldn’t possess spiritual power.

  
It was then you realized the rain had almost stopped. The staccato of droplets grew slower and what little of the sky you could see was losing its grey tint. You turned your body upwards a little, stared at the green tarp and the rain running down its sides.

  
As you looked over to the humans again they were still watching you, still judging what you were up to.

  
“Oy, brats,” you called out to them and frowned, “I don’t have all day, so either fuck off or be quiet over there.”

  
With that you lowered your head down again and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. They hurt still, a sourceless pressure in the space behind them.

  
You didn’t trust those children, not at all. But every second you wasted would be one without sleep and in the end that won out; the desire to listen to your body for once and grant it rest.

  
You heard them whisper, soft voices, scared voices.

  
In the end they were human and they could die just by breathing the polluted air; one sip of the contaminated water and they would be infected with something worse than your wound.

  
As if on cue it pulsed again until it found its own dark rhythm. It wasn’t the first thing that went to shit for you these days; and it surely would not be the last.

  
But a promise was a promise.

  
The two girls didn’t move anymore, sat frozen in place, undoubtedly afraid of you even as they saw your battered form.

  
As long as they were quiet, as long as you were not chilled to the bone it was okay. Things would be alright if you remembered how to breathe.

  
The air smelled clean and fresh now. Rain was not enough to purify the way the world had become, but it did manage to paint it in different colors.

  
If you craned your neck and moved forward just a little you could probably see Las Noches come to a halt with a sickening crunch.

  
Instead you kept your eyes shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Some days it didn’t rain at all and all those who had cursed the surplus of water now begged for it. They all extinguished their fires and waited for the sky to brighten. You heard them talk once, passing their groups because you had never been a people person.

  
“One day without rain and the desert will dry,” one of the Quincy huddled close to the flames muttered.

  
“Two days and the infection spreads.”

  
“Three days and the Hollows come crawling.”

  
“Four days and the shadows feast.”

  
“On the fifth day the sky never brightens.”

  
“Six days and the plague takes your limbs.”

  
“On the seventh day we fall quiet and the world comes to an end.”

  
Some of them repeated it like a mantra and you watched them shake in fear. Their languages were diverse, one unlike the other to the point where they shouldn’t be able to understand. Still they repeated the first Quincy’s words.

  
You understood what they said because the souls you consumed did; a giant dictionary compiled in your head by all those you destroyed.

  
Someone tugged on your sleeve.

  
“Would you care for some soup?”

  
It was a teenager who approached you, undoubtedly human, with not a shred of spiritual power in them. They smiled at you and attempted to hand you a bowl with some sort of liquid in it.

  
You didn’t react, just stared them down and then finally turned; you could see the recognition in their eyes as they saw the second set of teeth on the right side of your face.

  
For a second they were quiet and fidgeted.

  
“So?” they asked then and cleared their throat, “Is that a yes?”

  
“I don’t need it,” you said and turned your back on them, ready to leave.

  
“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you can’t want it,” the human called after you.

  
“ _Hey, I am not helping you because you need it; I am helping you because I want to,_ ” you remembered someone say a long time ago.

  
You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

 

Days moved by like clouds, even if you had not seen those in a while. The human world had had them; and you remembered seeing them in Soul Society too, during one of your very brief visits.

  
“Stop staring, you moron,” Luppi ordered you and pushed your face down into the sand, “There is nothing up there. No sun, no moon, no fucking help for you either.”

  
His anger was easier to deal with than the rest of his moods. All it required usually was for you to be quiet, hold out, let it pass.

  
You trailed after him, posture slouched and fingers shoved into your pockets.

  
The outskirts were still busy this time of the day, a million people dropping their belongings into the sand after they carried it across the desert all night. Las Noches moved even if they didn’t- with a deafening crunch, a grinding growl. Slowly, very slowly it would advance; to nowhere, anywhere.

  
“I hate your hair,” Luppi said off-handedly and tugged at it, “Someone should rip it out one of these days.”

  
He kept pulling until there were strands between his fingers as he moved away. Play dead, just play dead.

  
His interest was soon diverted to more lively things. The Quincy patrolling between shabby barracks, the small animals gnawing at his feet. Many of the latter still roamed the outskirts, others you had seen in the desert where human illnesses were not a problem. Some might have made it into Las Noches; but that was unknown territory for you, nothing you could estimate or describe.

  
Luppi spoke to the Quincy leader like you would about an insect; his eyes cold with disdain. She extended him the same courtesy. However, she snuck glances at you, obviously curious.

  
“How many new arrivals?” she asked with a brash tone. Her white clothes were pristine and so was her skin; green hair with no filth in it. The same went for her squad and it attracted other people. Some stared openly, others hid away from view behind barrels and planks.

  
“About two thousand we know of,” Luppi answered and frowned, “Is this a routine visit?”

  
The Quincy hummed and blew on her nails. Her boredom just meant she knew she was at the top of the food chain.

  
“It might be,” she replied gleefully, “Or maybe I don’t trust some tiny Hollow to watch over the potentials.”

  
“You bitch, how fucking dare you-”

  
“Well, Sexta,” the Quincy interrupted him and her shrug was exaggerated, “I see your subordinate over there and he looks like shit, so how can I trust you with those you care even less about, hm?”

  
It was not kindness that made her say it, but you could appreciate the look on Luppi’s face as the words began to sink in.

  
“Four more weeks and we collect the next ones,” the Quincy informed him before he could protest, “You would not want to disappoint the soul king, right?”

  
She left as she received no answer, heels barely sinking into the sand as if she was weightless or too good for the outskirts.

  
Luppi’s fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword. He turned to you next.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re injured,” the brown-haired girl said and sat down in front of you, her fingers sifting through the sand.

  
You snorted and grinned and tried to remember what was up and what was down. It was difficult when the left side of your head burned and your skull hurt as though someone cracked it open.

  
Your mouth was dry. Your eyelids felt heavy.

  
“Hey, can you hear me?” the black-haired girl asked and touched your shoulder, “Did they hit your head?”

  
Only as you attempted to speak you realized you were more than just scatterbrained. Words were difficult to find and form, just a scrambled mess where you usually found what you needed without effort.

  
“Fuck,” you slurred, “Fuck this.”

  
The two humans whispered something, talked to each other for a while until you were sure something would pierce the back of your head shortly.

  
You groaned as you lifted up your upper body. It was a rare occasion, to have every bone in you feel broken. Your leg twitched as you put weight on it and slowly climbed to your feet.

  
“You shouldn’t be walking around, you might have a concussion,” the black-haired girl warned you, “That’s when-”

  
“I know,” you snapped and quieted down, “I know what a concussion is.”

  
Knowing didn’t save you from its symptoms, not even with your supernatural regeneration speed. It took up too much energy by now.

  
As you took a shaky step the nausea set in. Within a second you had dropped back down on one knee, the taste of bile lingering in your mouth. Shame was a cold feeling, a shiver down your spine.

  
One of the girls touched your shoulder again and you almost lashed out to kill them; but humans were vindictive and their souls too fragile to feed you.

  
“Here’s the deal,” the one next to you said and leaned in until your blurry vision focused on her, “We’ll get you to a safe spot.”

  
“And in return?” you muttered, seconds away from passing out again, “Shit like that isn’t free.”

  
“You’ll tell us what is going on here,” she said and frowned, “Everything.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nothing woke you up until night fell. Your body didn’t activate its regular instinct to shake you awake in set intervals, it didn’t react to any outside stimuli at all.

  
What finally brought you back to the world was that your dream ended.

  
You never remembered much upon waking up, just images and colors you had no name for and the occasional feeling. Negative or not, only the impression stayed for longer periods of time.

  
This time it was what you thought of as winter. Hueco Mundo had never been truly cold, not to the point where the tips your fingers tingled with it and your breath showed in the frigid air. That was what you thought winter was like; ice and snow covered everything and taking a step outside meant certain death. However, in some naive part of your mind you still hoped there was more to it; not that it mattered now that there no longer was a change of seasons.

  
Summer had been different, but that would be a memory, not a dream. Those were different, tasted like something undefinable and ultimately bittersweet.

  
You blinked and saw nothing but sand before you. It was everywhere, always, a constant reminder. At first that was just a minor concern; then you felt it in your throat, in your mouth.

  
The two girls were still around and backed away as you coughed and sputtered like a fish out of water.

  
It took you a second to regain your bearings.

  
Reminiscent of the first time you saw them you were inside a small makeshift shelter at the edges of the desert, hidden from the view by tarp and the crumbled facade of a wooden barrack.

  
“Hey,” the black-haired girl said and sat up, “You okay over there?”

  
Before you could answer the other one was already close to you, large eyes worried and unbearably naive.

  
“Stay away from him!”

  
“But he is hurt!” she yelled at her companion, “He said his name is Grimmjow and-”

  
“He could be lying! Fuck, he probably _is_ lying!”

  
“That doesn’t mean I am gonna let him die!” the brown-haired girl continued and didn’t stop as her friend looked taken aback, “What would-”

  
“Don’t,” the black-haired girl snapped, “That’s enough, okay?”

  
You watched them quietly, their voices incredibly loud in your ears. The pain was not entirely gone and your head still felt woozy, but it was better like this; away from a crowd and lying still.

  
“Oy,” you said.

  
Nothing. They were busy fighting.

  
“Oy!” you called out a little louder and winced at the volume of your own voice, “Calm the fuck down.”

  
They turned to you with wide eyes.

  
“Look,” you muttered, “I don’t really give a shit what you’re talking about. If my name is rining any bells for you then you probably know I was the damn Sexta Espada before, right?”

  
They nodded almost in unison.

  
“Then,” you began and grunted as you sat up, “Fucking look at this and stop arguing.”

  
With some difficulty you reached behind yourself and lifted up your shirt just enough to show the tattoo on your back. It was still there after all this time. Your first cattle brand.

  
One of the girls gasped and you remembered there might be wounds on your back as well; probably nothing they wanted to see.

  
“There, satisfied?” you growled and twisted your neck until you thought it would snap, “It doesn’t fucking matter, now-”

  
The headache hit you like a brick to the skull and you moaned this time. Five fingers pressed against your temple were not enough to massage away the pain; your right shoulder stung.

  
“Why aren’t you regenerating?” you heard one of them ask.

  
“Can’t,” you replied and grimaced.

  
“But you’re a Hollow, what’s stopping you?”

  
It was a good question, a better one than you ever expected to be asked by them.

  
The brown-haired girl was still sitting right next to you and she began to reach out towards you as you stayed silent. Her eyes flitted between yours and some of the more visible injuries.

  
“Can I look at your head?” she asked and you didn’t understand at first.

  
Then it dawned on you and you slowly reached up, pressed the fingers of your left hand against your neck. As you trailed them across the side of your face you trembled. Through the headache and confusion you had not registered this pain as acutely as the others. Any sort of physical ailment had always been nothing but a minor nuisance, but in these surroundings-

  
“Takes up too much energy. With this-”

  
You inclined your head to the side before you continued.

  
“-I can’t use any sort of power at all.”

  
Your fingers pressed against the raw flesh where they had been hair and skin before. It seemed like Luppi had tugged a few times too many, taken part of the scalp with it. The left side of your head was just a pulsing surface of pain right now. Your fingers didn’t come away bloody; you deduced that at least subconciously part of the healing process had set in. Otherwise the head wound would have caused you to lose a lot of blood.

  
“Is that because of the mark?” the black-haired girl asked, “Does that cause the infection on your arm?”

  
You nodded slowly.

  
“Keeps my reiatsu down,” you said and lifted up the fabric of your sleeve to show the small creatures gnawing away at the wound’s edges. They were relentless in their pursuit of power.

  
The human girls looked at you with expressions that you couldn’t decipher.

  
“It isn’t always pity, okay?” you remembered.

  
“Bet you didn’t drag my infected ass here to find out more about me,” you said and frowned, “So ask your questions so I don’t owe you anymore.”

  
They traded looks.

  
“My name’s Ryo,” the black-haired girl told you, “And that’s my friend Michiru. We’re looking for someone.”

  
“Great,” you replied and snorted, “I’m Grimmjow. I eat souls.”

  
They didn’t seem to appreciate your bitterness very much; but your headache was slowly ebbing away and you couldn’t care less about their opinion of you. That’s what you thought. The fingers of your remaining hand still brushed over the disfigured side of your head.

  
“Your questions,” you muttered and blinked slowly, “Ask them.”

  
The two of them inched closer to you and once again you wondered how easily they trusted you. Then again, maybe the fact that they weren’t dead also showed how foolish you were.

  
“The Espada were Sosuke Aizen’s people, right?” the dark-haired girl, Ryo, asked you.

  
You laughed out loud and felt the rows of teeth on your cheek part. Mocking, vicious, angry.

  
“The first Espada were his guard dogs,” you snickered, “Bunch of assholes who thought their precious Aizen-sama would save them. Got fucked over in the end.”

  
“But you were part of them, right?”

  
You shrugged non-committally.

  
“What you care about is the ones you got right now, so why bother talking about what the fuck happened back then?” you replied and exposed your teeth in a feral grin.

  
Michiru flinched and shuffled away from you just a little.

  
“Tell us about them, then. Do they run this place?”

  
“The Soul King runs this place,” you answered and shrugged again, “The Espada, Sternritter, whoever is left- they’re all just waltzing around pretending to wanna keep order in here.”

  
“Then why is the castle moving? What’s the point of all this?”

  
“And what are these shadows out there? Why is it raining all the time?” Michiru chimed in and leaned forward with a frown, “Where do they take the people who vanish?”

  
None of their questions were meant to hurt you, none were even directed at you alone. It was like they wanted to voice a confusion and rage that they had kept inside for too long. However, no matter how much you agreed their voices were still too close, too loud, too demanding. Just human children- but right now you were just a heavily injured Hollow with senses too sharp to keep you safe.

  
They fell quiet as you swayed.

  
“Aren’t you, like, super freaking strong?” one of them asked, “Why do you let them do this to you?”

  
Your teeth ached as if someone pulled them out one by one, stabbed the bleeding gums and wrenched your jaw out of place.

  
They didn’t stop you as you lowered your head to press against the ground again.

  
“Another deal,” you hissed and closed your eyes until the pounding in your skull was a thing of the dark, “You don’t let anything kill me. I’ll answer your crap if I’m still alive by tomorrow.”

  
You didn’t catch their reply, but you knew they wouldn’t just watch you die if they had gone through so much trouble already.

  
“If Luppi comes looking for me,” you muttered, “Tell him to go fuck himself.”

  
For the first time in forever you took a deep breath and reached out to your right shoulder.

  
There used to be a limb here, you remembered, a second arm.

  
Then you lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 


	5. for the lack of a better; for the lack of a word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so much organizational shit to say that I forgot all of it, what is this
> 
> uM-  
> so there were uh, yknow, changes due to an executive decision I made
> 
> okay lbr all I wanna say is that: this shit is gonna be long and I am probably worse than kubo and will forget half of the beginning by the time I end up at the last chapter, so bear with me for a bit. I don't like ret-conning and I will def tell you if I have to do that, nothing so far
> 
> this fic is getting so long wtf you have no idea  
> I thought I was gonna be done at 50k  
> I was not done at 50k
> 
> warnings for this: some minor descriptions of torture, mentions of neck
> 
> I am all over the place rn so I am just gonna throw this out there tbh

* * *

 

 

You had kissed three people in your life.

  
The first time was out of curiosity, a stupid decision. You had no idea what to do, where to look, what to feel. More than anything you were confused. So your lips tingled and your chest felt weirdly tight even if you told yourself didn’t care about the one you were kissing. A futile and desperate effort. Their hands pressed against your chest and it hit you in that second how close they were; you almost ran.

  
The second time they were more experienced than you and mentioned it; with their fingers curled next your cheek. They let you go without a word as they saw the look in your eyes. You were gone, far away before they knew it. It was a goodbye.

  
The third time was in the desert of a decaying world. Your head was pressed down into the sand, your jaw slit open by the slash of a blade.

  
They leaned down and claimed your lips like one would inanimate objects; with a certainty and little regard for consent.

  
They tasted like blood and bile and you gritted your teeth and bit their tongue. It only worked until they bashed your head against a rock in the ground. Words flowed into your ears like insects tearing into your head. Words of spite and words of envy.

  
Then their hands were in your hair and pulled until something had to give. Slowly, so slowly. You choked as your skin ripped and the blood gushed out onto your face. A burning, searing pain.

  
The kiss that followed bruised your lips, tore them open just like it did to your jaw. Everything turned on its head, the desert, the entire world. This time you could not run.

 

* * *

 

 

You awoke with a start and the first thing you did was reach for your Hollow mask. It was still there, smooth and whole beneath your fingertips.

  
A deep breath. A change of plans.

  
Next was the other side of your head; your fingers twitched in the direction of the wound you still felt. It was a stinging pain, but the issue ran deeper than that. The phantom touch on your lips didn’t lessen in intensity, the blade ripping into your jaw.

  
Under Aizen’s rule violence against you had never meant much; a cut to your chest healed, a blow to the head ached only for a few minutes. Now your body was fragile, every injury lasted and mattered.

  
Your fingers twitched again but they did not reach your face. A primal fear of finding something no longer fixable, of finding that the damage done was irreversible. It won out.

  
The two girls were around, you could feel their reiatsu nearby. A promise was a promise but your patience was thin and your agitation rising. Your body wasn’t used to too much sleep at once; your pulse was quick and your urge to run quicker. They’d find you, you were sure of it.

  
_War criminal_. What a phrase. What a joke.

 

* * *

 

 

All potentials were equal, but on certain unfortunate occasions some were less equal than others.

  
One thing you had learned, one thing you remembered more clearly than others from that time that seemed ages ago, was how to tell time at all.

  
“ _A second, a minute, an hour_ ,” they told you slowly and patiently, “ _A day, a week, a year_.”

  
You counted the days and let the hours slip by. Every month there was a time when the potentials were taken away; those with spiritual power above the level of the lowest of Quincies.

  
The second one of them tried to run from the identification inside Las Noches a signal was sent. It ran through your head and burned the mark deeper into your neck. On these days, just for a second, you thought you could almost tell what shape it was.

  
With the burn came the inevitable urge to hunt and no matter how far down below the earth you crawled there was no escaping it. Like an itch in your brain that required you to crack open your skull to scratch. A nail embedded deeply in your paw.

  
On your first week in the wasteland someone had explained to you with very few words how the system of the potentials functioned; they had laughed as you frowned and not waited around to answer questions.

  
“The ones with spiritual power will be collected every once in a while,” they had told you and shrugged, “If they are lucky they’re strong enough to be taken aside after they were registered- then they go to Las Noches and stay inside. Heard it’s like freaking paradise in there. Well, compared to this everything must seem like heaven.”

  
Today was such a day; you walked closer to Las Noches at a leisurely pace with your hand stuffed in your pocket and nothing particular on your mind.

  
The white walls of the gigantic building bulged from the ground like an enormous bubble of puss. Bleak as the plague, high as the mountains in the distance that spoke of nothing but the future.

  
“Watch where you’re going!” a human shouted at you as you bumped into them; an emaciated, cruelly mangled person. They scrambled away as they saw the mask on your face, the scars right next to it.

  
Between the sea of sand and the castle there was a rift pressed into the desert by its reiatsu. Las Noches itself was powerful, breathing, alive. It made its way through the wastelands like a shark trailing its unsuspecting prey, nothing to be seen but the fin forestalling its approach. High up on its roof was where the new Espada resided.

  
You leaned back your head and stared up to where you saw bulky formations of stone, shapes that reminded you of creatures rather than buildings. They weren’t square or triangular, their outlines melted into one another and looked out across the desert below out of thousand circular windows. A wasp’s nest, a tree hollowed by bugs.

  
Some days, however, a hole opened in the facade of the castle just near the ground. Today was such a day.

  
For a second the tear in the stone looked almost like a Garganta- but you knew that no Hollow had the power to even put a scratch on Las Noches now. Inside the gash that opened in the castle’s flank you saw human faces. Scared. Frantic.

  
There was no loud noise, no gunshot to signal you to move. But the second the two unlucky potentials set foot outside Las Noches it was like someone pulled on your spine, straightened your entire body out until itt felt taller than ever. Vertebrae by vertebrae you could follow the way your upper body lowered against its will until you were in position to pounce.

  
The first month without your right arm your balance was still off because your body weight had shifted so dramatically to the other side. For someone used to fight like they balanced on a tripwire over a minefield every change made a difference.

  
Now you readied your claws and focused on the targets without uncertainties entering the picture. With your muscles drawn tight as a bowstring you waited. One breath, two breaths.

  
Then the two potentials ran as if the urge to hunt had struck them too, zig-zagging through the settlements closest to Las Noches. As they passed you by you could tell your initial judgement was flawed- they were not humans at all.

  
Their shoes pounded away at the sand and the signal activated without delay.

  
“You’ll feel it in your whole body,” the instruction went during that first week, “Have you ever not been able to stop bouncing your leg? Like that. Like there are a thousand suns inside you and if you don’t move they’ll burn you alive.”

  
You moved just a second after the mark began to sting.

  
Only about two days had passed since you received your head injury and it still made you feel woozy at times. Then the rush of adrenaline followed; you moved using sonido and you moved faster than you had in a long time.

  
On regular days time did not pass like it should; you knew it because you counted whenever you could. Life in the outskirts was slow, a drag at best. The routine ground down like gears; sleep and hunt and hurt and sleep again. Always the rain, always the sky of no return.

  
As soon as the mark sent you into a frenzy it felt like you had smelled blood; as if the Hollow instincts took over. As if there was a part of you that was something other than your own.

  
“And once you move,” the instruction continued on in your flawless memory, “You won’t stop until they are done. That’s why the mark is so important to us.”

  
Sonido carried you on weightless wings and time sped up until you felt your heart racing as if it could no longer keep up with you.

  
The shinigami ahead of you were not familiar but that didn’t mean much. You had never bothered getting to know all of them. Their reiatsu was more tangible now that you got closer and you had no trouble identifying them as something other than human.

  
Around you there were others awakening, other fracciónes who followed the call and raced to eliminate the threats.

  
Two shinigami, you noted as you vaulted over an array of tattered tents, both smaller than you and in a state of panic.

  
A shadow by your side, a second right behind you. An Arrancar and a Quincy, no doubt following the same trail.

  
All your senses were heightened and yet they focused on just one thing. A breath, _hunt them down_. A heartbeat, _kill them all_.

  
Once they ran from the identification they were gone for good, no way out and no mercy wasted by the people of the outskirts.

  
“All we need is to get inside that castle!” you had once heard them shout and cheer, “Everyone who gives up such an opportunity is a fool. There is no other way out than in.”

  
“Stay the fuck away!” the younger of the shinigami screeched now and drew his zanpakuto, “You can’t-”

  
And yet you could.

  
As he stumbled the signal intensified. Delirious with the pain of the mark there was nothing to do but jump and strike. Your stomach turned.

  
Everything beyond that was a haze.

 

* * *

 

 

“We heard the sounds,” Ryo muttered as she tugged you aside, pulled you along by the wrist to a spot she considered safe.

  
You ducked under a plank and dodged the sharp edges of a pipe as she led the way through passages that were too narrow and small for your build.

  
“Something happened, didn’t it?”

  
“You could say that,” you replied and looked around. You reached the end of the outskirts again; beyond the line of Las Noches’ surroundings there were mountains in the distance today. Through the fog their peaks were obscured.

  
“Someone died,” Ryo said and let go of your wrist as she stopped walking and sat down on the sand, “I could feel their reiatsu fading even from very far away.”

  
Her friend was nowhere in sight and you wondered if she was dead. Children never seemed to last for a long time in this environment.

  
You mimicked her movement and slowly settled down on the ground, crossing your legs.

  
“Everyone was running,” Ryo continued her story, “A lot of the Hollows around us and even some humans. It was like they all wanted to go to the same place. What’s that all about?”

  
You reached up and tapped your fingers against the mark. Even the lightest touch irritated the skin just hours after it activated.

  
“I thought that was there to keep your reiatsu down.”

  
“It’s also a brand and a transmitter,” you explained and your voice sounded bored even to yourself, “Does some fucked up thing to get us to hunt.”

  
“So you killed them. Those people who ran.”

  
“Nah,” you said and shrugged, “Was too slow. Someone else got them.”

  
Them and their flesh and their souls. The things unsaid were rarely pleasant.

  
Ryo seemed uncomfortable but not scared; she fidgeted and yet never lowered her eyes.

  
“I dont understand a lot of what’s going on here,” she admitted and dug her bare toes into the sand, “I want you to tell me everything you know.”

  
The wind howled through the outskirts and tugged at your sleeves. It wasn’t cold enough to make you shiver, but that didn’t mean it was warm. With clothes that never really dried and no source of heat around that was enough to scare the humans to death.

Quite literally, after a while.

  
“I’ll repay my debt,” you said, “Nothing more, nothing less. So ask. Not gonna tell you my damn life story.”

  
She snorted and drew lines into the sand, mindless and repetitive. It wasn’t difficult to guess something was on her mind, something intrusive and significant.

  
“Where’s your friend?” you asked before she could start, “Thought you’d stick together or something. Humans are all about the teamwork shit, right?”

  
“She’s on her way,” Ryo answered and the worry was clear in her voice, caused her to speed up her patterns, “She has been gone for a while, though.”

  
“As long as you can mask your spiritual pressure.”

  
“How do you-”

  
“You think I’m fucking stupid?” you interrupted her and laughed until she looked sufficiently spooked by your needle-sharp teeth, “If you guys couldn’t hide your reiatsu that asshole Luppi would have dragged me out of that shelter a second after I got there.”

  
Ryo nodded slowly and still didn’t seem very convinced; but she ducked her head down a little more underneath the few wires spanned across barracks. She lowered her voice, her posture, the entire matter of the conversation.

  
“First, tell me what the shadows are. Those things that creep around outside.”

  
“Why do you care?” you countered, “They just are. Nothing special about them.”

  
“I care,” Ryo whispered and her eyes widened, “Because one of them is right behind you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The shadows did not kill, no matter what the people liked to say around campfires, no matter what the Quincy tried to sell to the population. Rumors made a lot of money in a world where stories were returned to dust.

  
“They’ll take your souls, suck the heart right out of you!” other shouted and pointed at the faint silhouettes in the distance.

  
What they called shadows was nothing but shreds of darkness blinking into existence out in the desert. None of them were reminiscent of people or objects you had ever seen. Then again, Hueco Mundo had never truly introduced you to a variety of either. The short time you spent in the human world was little but a daydream now.

  
It was a night like any other when you accompanied Luppi to one of more radical meeting of the Quincy officials- he made you watch from the sidelines and told you to keep quiet at all costs.

  
Back then his behaviour was not like it was now; Luppi had not grown bitter together with you then, had not moved beyond lingering animosity yet. That came later in the story.

  
“Have you seen what the presence of the Espada around here did to the desert?” one of the Quincy screamed, “Heresy! They are tearing us apart!”

 

“Yeah I’ll tear you apart alright,” Luppi muttered and crosses his arms before his chest, “What are those fuckers going on about now?”

  
You watched on as the Quincy continued their monologue, a disturbing disembodied chant that was carried over to you just barely. They spoke of the times before the new Espada, the future and everything between they knew no one yet made sense of.

 

“Do they know who joined the ranks?” you asked and squatted down to examine one of the objects the Quincy had thrown into the masses a moment earlier. It was a tiny star, you surmised and turned it a few more times for good measure.

  
“They know Harribel,” Luppi growled, “Maybe those bastard fracciónes she keeps around.”

  
She was Primera now, promoted since all the others were dead. You liked her; or at least to the extent that you were capable of.

  
“I still remember you were part of us before,” she had told you as she saw the mark on your neck and the metaphorical leash. A year ago you would have strangled her for the sympathy. At that time all you did was nod.

  
The Quincy kept talking and you grew tired of her words, of the same baseless accusations repeated again and again. Her intention was to get the people on her side, to create an uprising against the Hollow rulers and let it fall back on those foolish few who now cheered and urged her to continue. It wasn’t as easy as they made it out to be.

  
“The Hollows brought the shadows to our lands!” she claimed and shook her head in mock sorrow, “They should be the ones to dispose of them.”

  
You tried to just once; rammed your claws into the air where the shadows resided. Your fingers passed through their form made of smoke and hurt even days after.

  
No, the shadows never tried to kill.

  
They crept up on unsuspecting visitors and whispered words of comfort into their ears until no one resisted their pull; and in the end the victims marched towards the mountains until their feet bled and their lungs collapsed.

  
“Come on, Jaegerjaquez,” Luppi called out, “We’ve got places to be.”

  
“Whatever,” you said and kept your eyes on the Quincy even as you left.

  
Her gestures were like those used to direct musicians; she moved fluidly and gracefully, slid her fingers through the air as if she imagined cutting off someone’s head.

  
Chop, chop, chop.

 

* * *

 


	6. Penumbra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [witty comment]  
> [sincere words of gratitude to the readers]  
> [whining]  
> [warning about humiliation and minor deaths]

 

* * *

 

 

“They’re harmless,” you told Ryo and shrugged as you glanced back at the billowing black patch in the air, “For the most part, at least.”

  
_“For the most part?”_

  
“They don’t eat your souls or feed on your fears or some shit,” you continued and pointed over your shoulder, “If they don’t sense spiritual pressure from you they’ll just pass you by.”

  
Just as you said it the figure behind you moved, like a thought, like a bolt of lightning. It was strangely slow and yet it was difficult to follow its movements as it shimmied up and down in the air.

  
Whenever they got close a peculiar feeling passed through you; as if you could suddenly remember all those nifty little details from centuries ago, those pesky memories of a summer before the world went to shit. It was a story for another day.

  
“But what _are_ they?” Ryo whispered and you could feel her approach you until she stood beside you, her hands close to your side. The phantom limb connected to your right shoulder ached. Maybe that was a specific type of punishment for people like you; those that woke up in the middle of the night hoping to grasp something with the fingers of the hand they knew they didn’t have anymore.

  
“I have no idea,” you said and it felt strange to finally voice it, “And neither does anyone I have ever talked to in here. Souls, maybe. A shitton of people died here, after all.”

  
Ryo was strong for a human teenager; or maybe she was older than you thought. The spiritual pressure she kept under wraps was nothing to scoff at.

  
Right now she looked like a child, scared of the darkness and clinging to anything in reach that would give her comfort.

  
“Your questions,” you said and rested your chin on your palm.

  
Ryo looked down at you and met your eyes; the fear did not drain from her magically, but she did calm and returned to where she sat before. Even as she continued to talk you did not miss the trembling of her hands and the way her eyes focused on anything but the spot behind you.

  
“Where are we?” she asked and sounded lost, “Where the hell even are we?”

  
You opened your mouth to give an answer, maybe something she wanted to hear so you could leave already. But you hesitated because what was there to lie about? There was nothing apart from-

  
“There you are!” an excited voice shouted from just a few steps away, “I thought I lost you.”

  
The other girl made her way through the barracks with some difficulty, shoving empty barrels and shreds of metal aside. Some people left their weapons outside in the desert; but most of the trash was just that, broken window frames and pipes.

  
“Hello Grimmjow!” Michiru said and sounded more cheerful than you could handle. Even if you had wanted to reply, you were interrupted.

  
“Shh,” Ryo said and pressed a finger against her lips, “They might still be around.”

  
_“They?”_

  
Both girls whipped their heads around and looked at you like they had been caught red-handed.

  
“You want me to kill the people who follow you.”

  
It was a simple statement and yet they winced as if struck. So very human.

  
“I’m sorry-” Michiru said and swallowed thickly, “But we were scared and they’re so many and will never stop coming after us even if we-”

  
“Can you do it?” Ryo interrupted her and kept her eyes on you, stern and just the slightest bit hopeful.

  
You huffed out a laugh and wiped your palm on the fabric above your knee.

“Kill them? That depends.”

  
“Depends on what?”

  
“On what I get in return. On who it is.”

  
They looked at each other again. Something unspoken passed between them, a silent agreement that you had no hopes of understanding.

  
You waited as they decided on a suitable approach. The sand beneath your legs was cold and kept you awake no matter how tired you got. The infection kept biting into the stump beneath your right shoulder even as you breathed. There was little more to do besides wait.

  
“There’s nothing we can offer you,” Ryo said and sneered, “Nothing we are willing to give.”

  
It caught you off guard. The implications in her statement were clear and even if you could not care less about being rude, there were certain things you needed to rectify.

  
“If I do this,” you replied slowly and blinked, “You’ll owe me a favor. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  
Their eyes widened, still in synch, still with that look in their eyes that showed you exactly what they took you for.

  
“Any favor?” Ryo asked and swallowed.

  
“No,” you answered immediately, “You’d be fucking stupid to accept that. Just favors to save my life.”

  
It made you wonder what they had experienced in their short time here as they relaxed. The question would never be spoken aloud, but you still wondered if they believed you would ask for something like torture, something sexual. The wasteland was not any kinder on children.

  
“Yes,” Michiru said and her voice was determined as she got up, “Kill them and you have yourself a favor.”

  
You hummed and stretched your arm above your head, waited until your shoulder cracked and then slumped again.

  
“How many?” you asked, “How strong?”

  
“You don’t want to know why they follow us?” Michiru asked and ignored the glare she received from her friend.

  
“What does it fucking matter?” you countered and shrugged, “If it’s the damn Espada that are after you I can’t do shit.”

  
“It’s not that,” Ryo said and sighed, “It’s not that at all.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Luppi ordered you to kill someone was just a day after you became his fracción. Nevertheless, those first few months were nothing but an attempt to lull you into a false sense of security.

  
In the wastelands it was brightest just before the dawn.

  
“Oy, Jaegerjaquez,” the newly crowned Sexta Espada called out to you, “I have something you might like.”

  
What he had was a list for you, a few people to sniff out and eliminate.

  
“The fuck do you want these guys dead for?” you asked and frowned, “We all just got here, is this some bullshit intimidation tactic?”

  
Luppi walked over to you, hugged you around the waist and grinned up at you. Within a second you lashed out, claws readied and poised to slit a throat.

  
“Down boy,” he chuckled as he caught your hand in his right; his left he pressed against the fresh wound halfway down your arm. Below the festering cut there was void, air, emptiness.

  
“Go fuck yourself,” you growled out as his fingertips pressed the gaping maws of the infection deeper into the flesh. Every movement was casual, unhurried. He stood so close you could see the rim of his iris.

  
“Be careful what you wish for,” Luppi laughed and ran a hand across the wound until the cut reopened and blood spilled over his palm, “Or that loose mouth will be sewn shut, hm?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you helping them?” the weaker of the two humans cried out in pain and choked as you squeezed down on his throat, “Why do you even care?”

  
“I wonder,” you replied and the Cero beneath your palm ripped into flesh. They were not as powerful as they had been before the infection was injected into you to suppress your strength. Now they were less of a blast and more of a blink of red that tore away at enemies.

  
What you liked about them was that they left little traces on the corpse and you alike; every wound was instantly cauterized and the blood flow stopped. No mess, just the certainty of death and no reason to clean off any stains.

  
You had ambushed them just outside Las Noches, had come upon them like a storm. They never saw you coming, not even as you felled the first one with a swift shot of energy to the spine.

  
The second blocked one of your hits, another; and then stumbled as you kicked at his kneecap and broke it without trying.

  
Your senses informed you that there were few people around, no Quincy and no Espada. So no matter who watched and who died, no one would know of it.

  
“They’ll track your fucking reiatsu signature on the wound,” one of the dying humans had groaned, “You’re done for.”

  
“Funny thing is,” you replied and shot them through the forehead with another red blink of reiatsu, “You assholes made me so weak my reiatsu can’t be distinguished from others anymore. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  
They couldn’t answer you.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time you killed in the wasteland there was no audience either, just a single Espada watching you with a wariness that flattered you.

  
“You have improved,” Harribel said and walked past you to inspect the corpse. Her voice was so even and composed it stressed you out to listen to it.

  
“Is that a joke?” you asked and spat at your side, “Because it ain’t funny to me.”

  
Harribel straightened her spine and turned to face you. The mask on her face was unbroken, rows of teeth covering her lips as she spoke.

  
“I was there when you first lost your arm,” she said and pointedly looked at the space where your missing limb used to be, “Well, I was there for the aftermath.”

  
You remembered tearing part of Las Noches apart; sinking your teeth into stone and your claws into concrete.

  
“So what?” you asked and lifted up your chin like a petulant child. To her, maybe that’s what you were anyway; one of the youngest Hollows even if you were the second to be turned by Aizen.

  
“You fought like a fool,” Harribel told you. Her stare never wavered, her eyes never softened. It wasn’t difficult to see why she was the queen of thorns and ice to many.

  
“Back then,” she added and walked to the next corpse, scanned its reaisu before she moved on, “Back then you were angry and unrestrained. Now you took your time, assessed the situation. So you improved.”

  
There was a question on her mind that you knew the other Espada shared; those who missed out on the fighting in the Soul King’s palace and those who only just returned to life.

  
You stayed quiet, pretended to be deaf and oblivious.

  
_What happened that made you change?_

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell us about the Espada,” Michiru begged you with a wide smile on her face, “About the ones you have now.”

  
She bounced on her heels and it confused you to no end; that unwarranted happiness. Her friend seemed to agree with you and rolled her eyes; but she did so with a fondness that could not be hidden.

  
They were both at the shelter you chose for the night again; one of them had carried candles with them, the other dirty blankets.

  
“Is this a thing humans do?” you had asked as they offered you one of the rags that looked like the fur shaved off of a very hairy dog.

  
“This?”

  
“Sharing a living space with an undead who feeds on human souls,” you clarified, “You know, is that generally a thing you do?”

  
They just laughed and handed you another blanket.

  
Now they were huddled against a wooden plank a few steps away from you, all of you shielded by a tarp. It was raining already and the holes in the fabric did not stop all of the drops.

  
“Why do you trust us with all this?” Ryo asked you and placed a second candle on the sand as if it could really illuminate anything beyond the walls of your crooked tent.

  
“Who says I do?” you muttered in reply and leaned your head against the ground.

  
Michiru lifted up another unlit candle with careful fingers and held it between her palms. A spark of spiritual pressure nudged the edge of your mind as she focused on the wick. Soon a flame flickered to life, the blue forming first until the warm glow of the orange part of the fire surrounded it. She set the candle down in front of her, never once taking her eyes off the gentle movement.

  
“So what about the Espada?”

  
“There isn’t much to tell,” you replied, “What do you want? Names? Abilities? A personal opinion on their grade of asshole-ness?”

  
Ryo snorted and tugged the blanket closer. She buried her toes in the sand and wiggled them around until her feet were almost entirely out of sight.

  
It reminded you of the way smaller Hollows had hidden from you in Hueco Mundo; beneath the surface of the sand and above the forest below. Their souls were never worth the hunt.

  
“Let’s start with names,” Ryo said and crossed her arms before her chest, “I saw the one you work with. Something with an L.”

  
“Loser,” you told her and yawned, “Pretty sure that was it.”

  
Michiru giggled while her friend groaned.

  
“That was horrendous.”

  
“I aim to please,” you responded and stretched, “Now, I’ll tell you what I know about the squad of assholes and then I’ll fucking sleep, ‘k?”

  
You could swear Michiru muttered something like “ _you shouldn’t swear so much_ ” but it could also have been your imagination. They both nodded and shuffled a little closer, mindful of the candles.

  
“This is a bit like a sleepover,” Michiru whispered under her breath.

  
“With shitty accommodation,” Ryo muttered.

  
“And a Hollow,” you added, “We generally kill those who fall asleep around us.”

  
They both seemed more amused than intimidated by your words, but it was not like you intended for them to have any sort of impact. Sometimes words were just words.

  
“The Espada,” Michiru urged you, “Tell.”

  
You sighed and rested your chin on your spread fingers.

  
“There used to be ten,” you began and cleared your throat, “When I was part of it. Before all this shit with Yhwach went down.”

  
You paused for a bit and wondered just how much there was to tell, how many memories you still had of the time that was not spent in the wasteland.

  
The two girls watched you patiently as if they could not wait to see the story finished but also didn’t want to pressure you. It was strange to be the target of consideration again.

  
“Now there are seven,” you said and swallowed down the lump in your throat to finish the story in one piece.

  
“Number seven used to be part of the very first Espada, the one before mine. Her name is Cirucci, she’s annoying as fuck. Spins some sort of weird metal circle around, I never fought her. Better than the six though. I dont remember his name.”

  
“You don’t remember?” Ryo chimed in, “How is that even possible?”

  
“Number five, Ggio Vega,” you continued and paid her no mind, “He’s an idiot. Pretty fast, though. Doesn’t care about anything that’s going on down here. I fought him once, he doesn’t really give a shit anymore since his old master. No one fucking misses Barragan except for that brat, the dude was an asshole. Then there is the four, Aaroniero. He survived being cut in half several times, good on him. Still a piece of shit. From what I heard he got stronger by eating some of the others.”

  
The girls looked mildly disgusted and you shrugged.

  
“Isn’t like I didn’t eat Nnoitra and Yammy when I had the chance,” you said and watched their reations carefully, “Ain’t like we have fun doing that, though, y’know.”

  
“What are you-”

  
“You humans always pretend to be so above this shit,” you muttered, “I fucking hate it. You’d do the same fucking thing in this situation.”

  
They were quiet and you looked away, your teeth clenched together so tightly you feared they might break.

  
The candle threatened to go out and you watched as Michiru wrapped her hands around it to shield it from wind and rain. It sounded like there was a storm approaching, with the sky dark and grey, only a tinge of red today.

  
“Number three is another one I don’t remember,” you said and your head felt heavy as if someone had filled it with marbles, “Tall, spindly. Doesn’t talk much.”

  
You knew they wanted to say something, ask questions you had no answers for. So you pressed on, undeterred, ready to ignore every last concern they raised.

  
“Number two is Nelliel Tu,” you explained and huffed out a laugh, “She fought on the shinigami’s side but no one could prove it so she regained her rank within the Espada.”

  
“Are you jealous?” Michiru asked carefully.

  
You stopped for a moment, tried to make sense of her words and then see if they applied to you in any way.

  
“No,” you said after a while and blinked slowly, “No, I don’t think so.”

  
“Why did she help the shinigami?” Ryo asked, “I mean, aren’t you like mortal enemies?”

  
_We don’’t have to be enemies. We don’t have to be set in stone._

  
“Hueco Mundo was dying, there wasn’t much else to do,” you answered and let some of the sand seep through the spaces between your fingers.

  
“What about you?” they asked, almost at the same time, “What did you do?”

  
The feeling of the sand on your palm was soothing and even if the dread settled low in your stomach your mind was still calm. No freakouts, no immediate fear response. A brain was a strange thing, a fearless one. It told you to feel pain when it didn’t. To be hurt when it wasn’t.

  
“Have an educated guess,” you chuckled and pointed at your side, “Why the fuck do you think I’m here?”

  
One of the candles went out and the howling of the wind grew louder as if it didn’t want you to finish.

  
“The Primera Espada is Tier Harribel, the current top dog of the soul king and also queen of Hueco Mundo. If that still existed, of course, the title’s worth shit right now. If you ever need to talk to an Espada, go to her. She’ll politely tell you why you deserve to die before she kills you,” you said as they didn’t keep asking.

  
“Wait just a second,” Ryo interrupted you as if you hadn’t been finished, “This isn’t Hueco Mundo?”

  
You just raised your eyebrows at her and looked unimpressed while the two of them seemed visibly rattled. Maybe it was the confirmation that things were truly fucked; that there really was something horrid and potentially irreversible going on that they couldn’t make sense of.

  
“But where are we if this isn’t Hueco Mundo?” Michiru asked, “And where is the Soul King? I thought everything was gonna be fine if he returned to his palace, isn’t he meant to restore the balance in all the worlds?”

  
You saw the desperation in their eyes, the honest hope that you could give them answers to the existential questions. An unfamiliar world where the sky was different and the day did not function like it should. A world with no sun or moon and a castle that kept moving like a living thing.

  
“I told you about the Espada,” you said and closed your eyes, “I don’t have all the time in the damn world.”

  
You could hear them shift and there was a suppressed sob; but there was nothing you could say that would make them feel better.

  
All you could do in this situation was sleep.

 

* * *

 


	7. medium rare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warnings for: torture, insults (as in, slurs), mutilation, humilation and a lot of sadism from that one character who everyone is telling me needs to die. 
> 
> About the manga chapter tag: Might be a bit of a spoiler for this fic, but there will be explanations about what happened in the Soul King's palace later and it isn't what happens in the manga. So, I think I am staying true to canon up until the reveal of (spoiler for chapter 654 or sth) Gerard Valkyrie's power. Might be wrong. My confusion is endless, always.
> 
> I change so much about the tags pls bear with me here this thing is shaping up to be so weird

* * *

 

 

“You’re even uglier than before,” Luppi scoffed and grabbed your chin to pull you closer, “If you weren’t so useless I’d say something needs to be done about that hideous scar.”

  
His fingertips moved across the criss-cross patch of skin on your throat.

  
“And this.”

  
The one on your neck, down to your stomach.

  
“And this one, of course.”

  
He followed the scar from the corner of your lip up to the raw flesh above your ear. A coil in your stomach, a bitter awakening.

  
“I could have taken your mask, you know,” Luppi said in a hushed tone with his eyes full of malice, “That precious heart of yours.”

  
By now you felt his hands on your skin even if they weren’t; creeping, crawling. Soon they would be underneath, break your bones from inside.

  
“You shouldn’t have broken what you liked then,” you hissed, “If this is so hideous to you.”

  
_“When you’re scared you lash out”_ you remembered a friend telling you once, _“When you lash out, you get hurt.”_

  
A blow to your skull knocked you back. Not for long.

  
Fingers clamped down around your mask, nails digging into the skin below. Five pressure points surrounding the sensitive bone teeth. Then they tugged.

  
“You think you can make fun of me, huh?” Luppi asked and laughed until the sound was stuck in your head, “You still think you’re so much better than me?”

  
You struggled in his grip but his other hand was pressed against you, bound your limbs and strength through the mark. Your body went limp as he demanded it, just a puppet with no strings attached. The world spun as he struck the same place again just to see if it would make you throw up.

  
There was blood trickling down your chin as Luppi kept on ripping away at your mask; as if it was just something glued to you and not a part of your face.

  
“Fuck off,” you growled and snarled at him. The words were weak compared to his hold on you but there was pain exploding all over your body and your legs began to grow weak. A Hollow treasured their mask, treasured the one heart besides the mandatory muscle. Fear rolled down your thoughts in cascades of blinding agony.

  
“You always say that,” Luppi grinned and stroked the sensitive skin above your jugular with a thumb, “But you don’t mean it. Face it, you’re lonely enough to enjoy even my company.”

  
His fingernails almost met beneath the mask now, breaking and tearing the skin. If he ripped it off you would bleed to death, no doubt about it. Bleed with your lungs failing and your eyes turning glass, your fingers spiders tangled in an extrinsic web.

  
”You always look at me like I am the worst around here,” Luppi sighed into your neck and laughed then, bruising your shoulder with his strong grip, “You fucking hypocrite, who killed who first, huh?”

  
A sweet, sweet memory, only clouded by the agony right now. You almost felt the death he tasted, savored, on his tongue.

  
“If you had power over me you would do the same,” Luppi continued to whisper and you could feel his hand squeeze down even more. Your left arm felt numb and it occurred to you he was stopping the blood flow; the brachial artery that ran through the upper part of your arm was restricted.

  
Five fingers stopping five of yours; stopping the movement that kept you on the brink.

  
“You’d do worse,” Luppi hissed and his fear was palpable in every breath he wasted cursing you, “You’d enjoy every second of it, hm?”

  
By now you felt faint, the right side of your face just a pulsating cesspool of pain, your left arm tingling with the lack of blood. Worms in your veins.

  
Your heart still pumped, still shoved more through you with a pulse racing so fast you barely felt the individual beats anymore. Fear kept you breathing, fear forced you to drown.

  
“Beg,” Luppi told you and his lips brushed against the corner of yours as he leaned ever closer, “Beg like a dog and I’ll spare you.”

  
You couldn’t have even if you wanted to and he knew it; he laughed and grinned and only let go of your mask now that it hurt enough.

  
Warm liquid trailed down your face, over your lips, dripped from your chin. Luppi grabbed your jaw and forced your mouth open, watched as the blood landed on your tongue. A metallic taste, the smell of something visceral.

  
You choked as he stuffed his fingers between your bleeding lips, scratched raw by his nails. The pad of his thumb swiped over your bottom lip; his index fingers mapped the placement of your teeth, let the blood pour down your throat as if you were starving for it.

  
The pain was dull now, heavy and blanketing. Fear was so much brighter.

  
“Look at you,” Luppi said and pulled his fingers away, “And still you’re not resisting.”

  
You were; it was too weak for him to notice, too subdued by the influence of his mark. His hatred was stronger than his fear now- no opportunities to overpower him through sheer force of will. Humiliation was not gentle in its pursuit and you felt it now as it bubbled up between gnashing teeth and a silenced tongue.

  
“Spineless, pathetic bitch.”

  
As you closed your mouth again and gasped for air you felt something move on the side of your face, as if your mask had come loose and now dangled there. Held by only a few strings of sinew and skin you would have to rip it out yourself; bare the bones beneath until the inside of your mouth was visible through the cheek.

  
“You hideous piece of shit,” Luppi said, “Can’t do anything to save yourself, huh? You weak, disgusting-”

  
“That’s quite enough now.”

  
The voice carried over to you easily and you felt it like a cool breeze on a hot day. Beneath the relief there was also shame, also anger.

  
Luppi did not let go of you right away.

  
“What do you want?” he snapped, “This is between me and my fracción.”

  
His grip loosened and you stumbled backwards, your hand pressed against your mask. It was still there. Still whole. Still yours. Your heart raced.

  
Luppi attempted to go after you, but his hand was stopped before he could reach out again. It didn’t matter. You could always feel it on your skin. Peel away, no tearing. Hush, hush.

  
Nelliel was impressive as an Espada, but her presence only intensified when she was furious. Even without Gamuza or a white uniform there was no doubt she was stronger than the Sexta who kept up his unimpressed facade just long enough to be pitiful.

  
“We have business with him,” Nelliel said calmly, “Is there something about this you don’t understand?”

  
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” Luppi replied with no small amount of indignation.

  
“We need him unharmed. After tomorrow he is yours again, so be patient, Sexta.”

  
_Numbers don’t matter anymore_ , silly, she had said to you all those years ago, _No one will ask about who you used to be._

  
And Luppi backed away because he had to; because despite all the bitterness and the fear he still valued his life. It was not like you couldn’t relate. However, the first thought on your mind was still his head on a spike, even as he admitted defeat.

  
“Jaegerjaquez, you coming?” he asked as if there was anything to reply.

  
Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak Nelliel answered for you.

  
“I will have a word with him. You are dismissed, Sexta.”

  
Luppi lifted his eyebrows.

  
“Be careful what you say, _Segunda_ ,” he spat, “Some of us still remember you were the shinigami’s bitch by choice.”

  
As he received no reply he left, grudgingly, swaying from side to side to an inaudible rhythm.

  
You lowered your body to one knee and exhaled a shaky breath you had held in for far too long. As per usual your power was drained again; leaving nothing but the stars in your vision and the static in your ears.

  
Nel sat down next to you, her long legs stretched out across the sand.

  
“That was close,” she said quietly.

  
Then, “Are you alright?”

  
“Never been better,” you answered.

  
As you glanced at her you saw a look on her face that you were familiar with. So many things to say but so little time. She had never been good at conveying feelings or messages without words; she was the one to laugh out loud and barrel into people to show them affection.

  
“You’re wanted for questioning tomorrow,” Nel informed you and hugged her knees to her chest, “In Las Noches. Harribel requested you.”

  
You nodded.

  
“I’ll be there.”

  
She smiled and fidgeted and then placed a hand on your right shoulder, just above the wound as if to show you she was not repulsed by it.

  
“If I could do more-”

  
“You can’t,” you interrupted her sharply, “We all got our roles to play here. Go back to your tower, Nel.”

  
You shrugged off her hand carefully and got up with a jump, landing on your feet with grace. It was still early, there were opportunities to seize. Subconsciously you reached up and touched the jagged edges of your mask again; just to be absolutely sure.

  
“You could kill him,” Nel said quietly as she walked up to you again, “Just like that.”

  
“Yeah,” you replied, “I could.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re injured again,” Ryo stated.

  
Blood still trickled down the side of your face and it made your skin tingle like a thousand bugs crawled across it. The sounds of footsteps were getting closer to you and you cracked an eye open as they stopped.

  
”What gave me away?” you muttered and grimaced.

  
“You’re always injured,” Michiru answered, “And you’re always tired.”

  
It wasn’t like she was wrong, but you only frowned and leaned your head back against the rock that propped you up. The wounds on your arms didn’t allow you to lie down and sleep properly so you had decided to sit up. It eased the strain on the injuries at least.

  
“How’d you even find me?” you asked and lifted your eyebrows, “Ya got some sort of weird sixth sense right now?”

  
“Your reiatsu is easy to single out.”

  
“Bullshit,” you laughed, “You’ve been following me around for almost a month and _now_ you’re breaking out the obvious lies?”

  
They sat down close to you. The first thing you noted was the dirt on their hands and faces; black smudges that looked like the stains coal would leave.

  
_Old-fashioned way to start a fire, huh?_

  
“It’s more like we’ve been saving your ass for a month,” Ryo said and ignored the glare she received once more, “And vice versa.”

  
“Mutually beneficial, huh?” you asked and rolled your eyes, “Suppose I can live with that.”

  
They carried blankets with them and Michiru handed you one with a smile. There was nothing you could say, all choked up and weary.

  
“What d’you wanna know this time?” you asked, pulling the blanket closer until the chill of the day was not quite as rough. A question in exchange for them guarding you while you slept. Not the worst of deals.

  
“The castle,” Michiru said and scooted closer, “Tell us about it.”

  
She stayed quiet for a bit, holding her breath and rocking back and forth on her haunches.

  
“...please?” she added then, her fingers nestling with the strings of her jacket.

  
Ryo had to hide a smile and it was still peculiar to watch; they were so human, no matter the circumstances or the past. What they told you about their time before they came to the outskirts was just the regular story. Woke up in the desert, found other survivors, survived until someone found them. Same old story with the same casualties every time.

  
“You wanna know about Las Noches?” you asked and leaned back as a twinge of pain ran through your jaw.

  
“Yeah,” Ryo agreed, “I mean, it’s kind of weird with the whole moving around thing and all. And yesterday you talked about the potentials being taken there, so it’s just fitting.”

  
You shrugged and yawned and tried your best not to appear too annoyed. So far sleeping an entire day at once had helped your recovery; risking it would be foolish.

  
“Las Noches used to be Aizen’s place,” you said and blinked until your eyes didn’t threaten to fall shut every few seconds, “He put surveillance up everywhere inside its walls. Was his very own world to play god for, with an artificial sun and all the technology he needed.”

  
It felt like a memory from ages ago; back then you were truly Hollow and only just emerged from Hueco Mundo’s harsh sands.

  
“But then he was defeated,” Michiru said, “And you had a queen for a while, right?”

  
You nodded and remembered Harribel in chains, clothes torn and skin bruised so severely it looked like leather.

  
“She was imprisoned as Yhwach started to pull his little stunt,” you explained, “Las Noches was Quincy territory when I left it.”

  
“But then why is it here now? Is this isn’t Hueco Mundo, then why is it the only thing left from before?” Michiru asked.

  
“And what’s inside? If it used to be part of Hueco Mundo, then why isn’t it gone?” Ryo added.

  
Your headache was slowly getting worse again and their insistent voices were not helping. They noticed soon enough and lowered their volume, but the thought that you needed to be treated like a porcelain doll about to break made you grind your teeth in anger.

  
“I don’t know what’s inside,” you admitted, “No one really does.”

  
“What do you mean _you dont’t know_?”

  
“Just that. No one knows what’s inside because the people who go in either don’t come back out or never talk. You can ask an Espada, if you wanna, but they won’t tell you shit either.”

  
The two girls did not look very convinced; they exchanged looks again and you could basically hear the questions buzzing in the heads.

  
“So you have never been inside?” Michiru asked, “Not even once?”

  
“Las Noches has a fuckton of different layers now,” you answered dismissively, “Just because I’ve been in the prison camps doesn’t mean I saw the actual inside.”

  
“ _Prison camps?_ ”

  
You huffed out a laugh and pressed your palm against the side of your head to try and quiet down the intrusive noises. Static still hummed in your ears from the constant exhaustion and even if it was a familiar guest it was still far from welcome.

  
“Thought I told you yesterday,” you muttered, “The dangerous potentials end up there. The war criminals.”

  
Just saying the words felt unreal, unfitting for a world such as this. The war was long since over and you had never wished for it to be back.

  
“So why are you here?” Ryo asked and cocked her head, “You said you were a war criminal yourself when we first met. So why are you out here?”

 

* * *

 

 

_They grabbed your right arm and forced it into a metal contraption that looked like it was meant to clamp down around metal or wood. You could see the saw, hear its teeth grinding before it was even turned on._

  
_“You are hereby sentenced to serve as a reiatsu donor for the Sixth Espada,” they read aloud and lowered the sawblade until it scratched the skin, “You will offer your energy and services freely to whomever he deems worthy.”_

  
_“Nothing but a sachet of blood and bones for me to feed on,” Luppi laughed, “Little darling Grimmjow does not look happy.”_

  
_You screamed as they pushed down the saw and it ripped into skin, into flesh, into bone. It was not a clean cut and your muscles spasmed due to the pain. The sounds were the worst; screeches and whimpers that were produced by the saw and you in equal parts. They merged into one in the end._

  
_Then came the pungent smell of burned flesh, strong and overpowering until it filled all your senses. Your vision blurred to make way for nothing but flashes of red and white, blood and sparks of a blade twirling to dig deeper into the bone._

  
_Your arm gave in with a crack and suddenly nothing held you back; the clamp set around a limb that was no longer part of you._

  
_It didn’t take much to cause you to stumble now; you fell backwards into the hold of someone. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t comforting. They reached around and pressed their fingers into the open wound._

  
_At first you could only gasp and struggle but soon you could feel something move against the edge of the gaping gash. Small tendrils moving to stop the blood flow, nesting in the raw tissue._

  
_Luppi walked up to you and cradled your face, a look of bliss in his eyes._

  
_“It’ll be over soon,” he said and smiled, “Don’t you worry, Grimmjow.”_

  
_He laughed as tears of anger ran down your face. Feeling useless, feeling weak._

  
_“Oh, I won’t let you die,” Luppi said, “I’ll suck you dry.”_

  
_Too close, too spiteful. Your jaw clicked shut as he forced your chin up._

  
_“Smile,” he said._

 

* * *

 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” you said and bit your lip, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

 

They looked at you with a very familiar expression and you could feel your rage pulse like a second heartbeat. Sometimes it still was just like a living thing, a bird of prey caged inside feasting on your liver.

  
_Isn’t pity isn’t pity isn’t pity_. Someone told you about that once. Someone beat it into your head that there was more than pity to concern. More than underestimation. Your heart hurt. Your chest felt too tight.

  
“If ya wanna know so bad,” you said and grinned, “You’ll have to tell me why you are being followed around by a bunch of fucking weaklings.”

  
It worked like a charm; their curiosity turned to wariness turned to fear.

  
“We can’t,” Ryo snapped, “We just can’t, okay? So don’t be an ass about it.”

  
You gestured at yourself and closed your eyes as you leaned your head back against the stone once again.

  
“Hollow,” you clarified, “It’s in the job description.”

  
Her eyes softened and it was another one of those instances when you weren’t sure how to treat humans; because they saw the weirdest traits as endearing and potential in things that were worth nothing at all.

  
“Okay,” Ryo said and plopped down onto her side, “Got it. No one will talk. We’ll all be asses together.”

  
“Stop swearing so much,” Michiru mumbled and frowned even with her eyes closed and face buried in the blanket. She used part of it as a pillow.

  
They fell silent after that but you knew for a fact they weren’t sleeping. It wasn’t their turn yet and you were not kind enough to trade your own rest for theirs.

  
“Oy,” you spoke up again even as your eyes drooped shut.

  
“What is it?”

  
“I don’t fucking care why you’re being hunted,” you began, “But I’m guessing it’s because you were on the losing team before everything went to shit.”

  
No reply. You had not expected one.

  
“They caught some people they call the top conspirators just recently,” you continued, “So whoever you’re searching for might be locked up in Las Noches right now.”

  
Still nothing.

  
“’m gonna go there tomorrow, see who they kept alive in custody.”

  
Michiru’s hand twitched just slightly, Ryo winced. For you it was enough.

  
“So if ya got friends in all the wrong places, well, now’s the time to relay a message for them.”

  
They stayed silent still but you knew they were wide awake now, considering, evaluating. Of course they did not answer.

 

* * *

 


	8. as fast as truth was frightening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christmas is tmrw for me so I'll pretend to be too busy with stuff to post anything which is why that shall be done now instead
> 
> this is short guys, enjoy the moment of "peace" before the inevitable string of calamities
> 
> I am also still bad at deciding who to tag for the characters in this so expect to see that change every time this updates
> 
> also happy almost german christmas if u celebrate it  
> the wasteland does not have christmas  
> but it has death instead so there is that

 

* * *

 

Las Noches swallowed you whole after you were permitted entrance. Just as those many times before the entrance looked just like a hole ripped into the fabric of space; like a Garganta spanned across a wall.

  
“Follow me,” Emilou Apacci ordered you and lifted up her chin defiantly, “Hurry, we don’t have all the time in the world like you do.”

  
Her attire was close to the one she had worn under Aizen’s rule- even if you knew for a fact she would rather cut off her head than admit she had ever obeyed a shinigami’s command.

  
“Fucking fancy,” you said under your breath as you stepped through the hole in the wall, nothing but void before you. It felt like stepping on water, being surrounded by ice.

  
“One wrong move and I’ll personally carve a mosaic into your spine,” Apacci reminded you and shoved you ahead by the shoulder, “You’ll be begging for death.”

  
“Just shut up and get moving,” you replied and made sure she took in your bored expression, “I thought you were busy up there?”

  
Another shove and you laughed.

  
“Oh come on, Apacci,” you said over your shoulder and evaded her next push, “Isn’t like Harribel couldn’t handle me, right?”

  
“Address her properly.”

  
“The _Primera_ is the strongest around, right?” you corrected yourself and grinned at her, “So what is a lowly fracción like me to a queen?”

  
Apacchi frowned and kept her hand on your shoulder as she urged you along through the void.

  
The gap behind you closed with a sound close to _discord chaos trouble_.

  
“I heard you were messed up by what happened,” Apacci hissed in your ear, malice replaced by urgency, “Didn’t think it would be that bad.”

  
“I’m not the one serving as a lapdog for a faceless asshole on a throne in the fucking sky,” you returned in hushed whispers, “So what’re you talking to me for, huh? Aren’t you afraid you’re gonna lose your nice new job, _Cierva_?”

  
The tip of her zanpakuto pressed against your spine.

  
“For all your rebelliousness,” Apacchi whispered in your ear, “You didn’t get very far. So before you look down on us maybe consider that you’re the one being screwed over for nothing.”

  
“ _Screwed ove_ r implies I don’t know I am being played, dipshit.”

  
“Then where’s Pantera, huh?” she asked and laughed humorlessly, “Did you anticipate that, too?”

  
Her words stung more than you would like to admit, especially with her weapon urging you onwards.

  
“How about you shut-”

  
You were interrupted by the sound of another hole being ripped into the world, loud and obnoxious. Whoever it was, they were behind you now, falling into step beside Apacci.

  
“Company?” you asked and snorted, “Fucking fantastic.”

  
“Keep it, Grimmjow.”

  
“So uncouth.”

  
Two more voices and no doubt about who they belonged to.

  
“Mila Rose,” you greeted her and grinned as you continued, “Sung-Sun. Figured you didn’t die, that would have been too convenient.”

  
The blade scratched across your skin just enough to scrape off a bit of skin. Your hierro was thin compared to how it would be at your full strength, but it managed to reduce the sting to a prickling sensation.

  
“Right back at ya,” Mila Rose shouted and you could hear the sounds of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, “Now get a move on.”

  
“I told him that already, you can shut it, too,” Apacci reprimanded her and you could almost hear her scoff.

  
“You are both being incredibly childish,” Sung-Sun chimed in and her clothes fluttered audibly, “I didn’t think you could manage being less refined than even the savage over there.”

  
“Sung-Sun you _bitch_ ,” came the immediate reply and you could hear metal clashing against metal, “You wanna fucking fight me?”

  
Shawlong had always graced their interactions with a benign but condescending smile; your other fracciónes were not very fond of the Tres Bestias. Too loud, too high up on the food chain for just another bunch of strays. Most of the time you were sure they were jealous.

  
“Oy Apacci,” you called out and you barely recognized your own voice with how quiet it was, a contrast against the shouting in the background.

  
“Yeah?” she replied gruffly and the pressure of her weapon disappeared from your back.

  
“This isn’t just gonna fix itself. Sitting around doing nothing isn’t gonna save you.”

  
Apacci spat out laughter like it was bile.

  
“Worry about yourself, Grimmjow,” she said and leaned a little closer, “You won’t like what they got for you.”

 

* * *

 

The prison camps inside the first layer of Las Noches were as sterile as a needle prepared for injection in a hospital. Full of air, pumping nothing but death right into the human body.

  
The buildings here were all reminiscent of the Espada palaces; huge, blocky structures with few windows and high ceilings. Above you was another artificial sky; with no sun still and fake stars in its place. It wasn’t exactly Hueco Mundo but it was more than a night of rain replaced by the darkest of days.

  
“Not bad, huh?” Mila Rose teased and walked past you for the first time, baring her teeth as if you were still Adjuchas and trying to rip apart the other’s insides.

  
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” you returned, “Last time I checked the screams of your prisoners still echoed in these holy-fucking-walls.”

  
“Aw, Grimmjow,” Apacci said dryly, “Didn’t know you cared.”

  
“When did you get all high and mighty?” Mila Rose asked and leaned on her broadsword. She was taller than the others and with the addition of her new padded armor her figure was imposing.

  
“Did your little stunt with the shinigami scramble your brain, Grimmjow?” she asked and laughed, “Are you all good and kind now?”

  
“Good enough to be of use to your _Harribel-sama_ , at least.”

  
Her grin turned into an expression that was nothing short of furious; her eyes cursed you before the words ever left her mouth.

  
“You arrogant piece of-”

  
“Thank you, Mila Rose. I will take it from here.”

  
Harribel’s voice quieted all their disputes and it was amusing to see them all cower. Not with fear, but with respect. Apacci stepped away from you and the pressure of her blades vanished from your spine. Sung-Sun stayed silent and pressed her sleeve against her mouth.

  
Mila Rose glared at you as you kept smirking, but she kept her protests inside and made way for her leader.

  
“Grimmjow,” Harribel greeted you and the way she moved up the dune was as graceful and swift as ever.

  
You inclined your head in her direction. Even under these circumstances she was one of the very few people who had earned your respect.

  
“Come,” she said and gestured at you to follow her.

  
As he fracciónes began to move she held up her hand and stopped them just like that.

  
“You can leave,” she ordered, “Inform the Quincy the interrogation will be conducted with a Sternritter present, their concern is unwarranted.”

  
They obeyed the order without complaint, ducked and retreated with grudging swiftness. Mila Rose still looked at you as if your head on a spike was what she dreamed about at night. Then again, that fate had to be too kind still.

  
Harribel waved you along, using minimal movement and turning her back on you. It was not that she trusted you; she knew that even if you tried to kill her you would not put a single scratch on her hierro.

  
“Quincy giving you trouble?” you asked as you stalked alongside her, hand shoved in your pocked and posture slouched.

  
“They insist to be present at all times whenever an interrogation is conducted,” she replied, “They fear an uprising.”

  
“Do you plan one?”

  
Harribel looked you in the eye as if trying to gauge if you were joking or not; you decided to let her decide and met her stare without flinching.

  
She seemed to come to a conclusion and averted her gaze, looked on towards the closest building. It lacked windows and its surface was spotless; the sand below filthy and barren.

  
Her steps were light and you watched her press a hand against Tiburón as she moved. Jealousy was not a word used to describe what the image did to you.

  
“We share an administration,” Harribel reminded you, “Espada and Sternritter. There is no need to be suspicious of one another if an attempt at a revolution is so entirely pointless.”

  
“Some might not think of it like that.”

  
“Grimmjow,” she said and rolled her shoulders, “You were there three years ago. You know what happened. There is nothing for rebels to do out here, no-”

  
Harribel paused and gestured at Las Noches’ roof.

  
“No way out of this.”

  
You hummed as a reply and looked up to the stars painted on stone. In the human world they had been different. Not as close. Not aligned as neatly.

  
“Doesn’t mean no one will try,” you muttered and felt satisfaction at the way her head turned too sharply to hide the surprise.

  
“Are you asking me to join your cause?” Harribel asked, “Your resistance against the Soul King?”

  
It made you laugh, the offended tone in her voice mixed with her boredom.

  
“My hypothetical cause would be enough for you to cut my fucking head off right here,” you said, “There’s no resistance and you know it. That piece of shit would notice right away.”

  
“I doubt he appreciates you calling him that.”

  
“I doubt I am ever gonna give a shit.”

  
For a second you thought Harribel rolled her eyes at you but then her back straightened and her posture was proper again, stiff and orderly.

  
You followed her eyes and saw that someone had expected you; a figure leaning against the outer wall of the prison building, relaxed and uncaring.

  
Green hair, white clothes- you recognized the Quincy who had angered Luppi a while back immediately. Now there was dust on her clothes and smudges of dirt on her cheeks as if just a short time outside of Las Noches had ruined all she stood for.

  
“About time you show up,” she said and yawned, “Thought I was gonna have to electrocute one to get them to talk.”

  
“Grimmjow,” Harribel addressed you, “Meet Candice Catnipp, current supervisor of the northern outskirts.”

  
The Quincy flipped her hair and then leaned forward to take a good look at you, squinting and humming as she came to a conclusion.

  
“Sexta’s pet, huh?” she asked and cocked her head a little more, “You look familiar.”

  
Harribel sent a pulse of reiatsu in your direction as your anger flared, suppressing yours effectively. Her power was quiet but vast and it blanketed you within the blink of an eye.

  
Candice observed your reaction carefully and tapped a finger against her chin.

  
“Weren’t you with those shinigami in the third assault?” she asked and walked closer until your noses were almost touching, “Didn’t you-”

  
“We need to move on,” Harribel interrupted her, “The longer we take, the more likely they are to come up with a plan.”

  
Candice frowned and moved away very slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. To her you were an unpleasant memory of the third assault; one you couldn’t say you shared.

  
Harribel did not wait for her to get her bearings and moved along into the shade of the building without hesitation. It was your cue to follow and escape an awkward situation. Awkward in this case entailed possibly being stabbed several times.

  
The inside of the prison building had not changed since the last time you saw it. Narrow hallways led to open halls and cells with no discernible security measures. No bars, no locked doors.

  
“Fuck, I hate coming in here,” Candice complained and stretched her arms above her head, “Always feels like someone’s curb stomping you. Ruins the whole mood.”

  
In a world where the Soul King controlled every living creature there was no need for extensive surveillance; in theory at least. Yet fate was fickle and leaving something like the world to chance was not an option.

  
“You’re used to this sorta shit, eh?” Candice asked you and pointedly looked at your arm, “With the infection and all.”

  
“I can only recommend it,” you replied and ignored Harribel’s attempt at keeping you under control, “Try it for yourself, you won’t be fucking disappointed.”

  
“No thanks. Lost an arm before, didn’t really suit me, you see.”

  
She ran a hand through her hair, flattened it against her shoulder.

  
“Now, let’s go over the protocol again, shall we? Rule number one is ‘Don’t let them see your arm’. Seriously, don’t do it.”

  
Another hallway, another sterile part of the complex. Even the fake stars outside seemed appealing when compared with the stale grey of these corridors.

  
“There is no reason to pretend to want to ally with them,” Harribel told you promptly, “We are too far along for that to work. That means there is no need to disclose any information to get into their good graces, simply appeal to self-preservation instincts.”

  
Her voice was unhurried and serious but as before you were sure there was something hidden beneath, something to make use of and exploit.

  
“Then what do you need me for?” you asked and shrugged as both of them looked at you, “Ain’t like you couldn’t do that by yourself.”

  
You smirked as they stayed silent, caught off guard entirely by the fact that you noticed at all.

  
“Is it to show what disobedience will get them, hm?” you continued and only kept laughing, “Fucking hysterical.”

  
Then you rolled your shoulders, cracked your knuckles and strode past them both. A quick glance to the side and you made sure the sleeve of your jacket covered the remains of your right arm.

  
“Anything else?” you called over your shoulder, one step closer to the cell.

  
Their silence only made you laugh harder as you teetered into the hall leading up to where you felt the presence of at least three shinigami; all of them familiar.

 

* * *

 

 

On your way through the first layer of Las Noches there had barely been survivors or their reiatsu signatures anywhere close by. Many of the potentials seemed to have died just like that; no trace of them wherever you looked.

  
“Maybe they’ll go deeper inside,” you had heard Luppi muse once, “To where the Soul King is. Maybe he feeds on them.”

  
It came to your mind now as you entered the cell and felt the strength of those imprisoned. It would be a waste not to devour them.

  
Three years ago there had been an enemy and a fight against it; all the story needed were people on both sides. One side lost, the other won, the story ended.

  
“Well,” Urahara said as soon as you entered the room they were kept in, “That’s a surprise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 


	9. of surveillance and its teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayy
> 
> I am gonna keep switching around those tags until I am mildly okay with them; one day, one day
> 
> thanks @ viih who reminded me that michiru has light brown hair and not blond so there you have the ultimate first retcon
> 
> apart from that: hope you had a nice new year bc I feel like we are slowly getting to the not-nice parts of this now?? perpetual confusion
> 
> Warnings for this: Choking (as in, someone choking someone, not like small children choking hazard warning on lego), sth like pretended sexism (which ofc there is no tag or name for bc honestly why would there be omg) and the first mention of living animals/creatures inside people and/or wounds. Also implied actual not-Hollow cannibalism.
> 
> Sounds like a real joy, I know! :D

* * *

 

All things considered, losing the war should not have come as a surprise to you.

  
You hated to admit it even to yourself but your life had not exactly been easy in terms of how many times opportunities were handed to you; all of it had been about taking and having things taken from you.

  
It started with dying, becoming Hollow. Submitting to a shinigami with a god complex who insisted on taking over your homeworld was not exactly a choice, either. Your fracciónes were taken next, then your arm and rank. You lost to the shinigami, lost to Nnoitra. Spent an eternity inbetween lives and joined a war that seemed impossible. In the end you found something akin to victory- in retrospect you should have been more suspicious.

 

* * *

 

“How long has it been?” Urahara asked, “Three, four years?”

  
“Two years, eleven month and twenty-eight days,” you replied quietly and pressed your arm against your chest.

  
The cell looked just like the hallways you had been through; high ceilings, narrow walls, everything painted grey on grey. Within the stone the reiatsu-suppressing force pulsed and it sent cold shivers down your spine simply by being close to you.

  
Urahara was not the only one staring at you like they had just seen a ghost- and technically, they were not wrong.

  
“You look like shit,” Yoruichi said from where she sat perched on a small table, the only piece of furniture in the room.

  
She got up and strolled in your general direction, her steps bouncy.

  
“We all thought you were dead.”

  
You looked over to the opposite corner of the room and frowned as you took in Shinji Hirako’s appearance. Out of the three he was easily the most affected. There was blood staining his white clothes and not a small amount at that. Old or new, the wound had definitely not made surviving in this world easier on him.

  
“I’m not going down like that,” you growled and lifted up your chin, “Aren’t you guys supposed to have a little faith in your allies?”

  
“Well, Jaegerjaquez-san,” Urahara answered with exaggerated politeness, “The very fact that you are alive and not trapped in here shows us that maybe we should rethink referring to you as an ally after all.”

  
“I might have stayed hidden for a while. Evaded them. Who’s to say I couldn’t have survived like that?”

  
“I distinctly remember seeing you run headfirst into a poison trap because you wanted to impress someone,” Yoruichi said and smiled sweetly, “Forgive me if it seems difficult to believe you showed restraint for an entire three years.”

  
Hirako snorted and rested his head against the wall before he closed his eyes.

  
“The much I’d like to make fun of him,” he said and sighed, “You’re not here as an enemy either, are you?”

  
You curled your back a little further to ease the strain on your spine. Within this building every bone was made of glass.

  
“I’m the bad example,” you said and gestured at yourself, “Learn from my mistakes and all that jazz. _Surrender immediately_. All those pretty things.”

  
Yoruichi frowned, Urahara was looking pensive. Hirako grinned up at the ceiling. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breaths were heavy, but he kept smirking.

  
“Is this what you wanted?” Urahara asked you and diverted your attention away from the injured Visored, “Become an Espada again? Top of the food chain?”

  
His lips twitched even as he spoke as if his mouth wanted to smile albeit his brain advised him not to.

  
“Of course,” you replied, played his game, “Nothing I ever wanted more than the fucking throne, right? Nothing at all.”

  
Yoruichi traded looks with her companions. You glanced over your shoulder into the ridiculously empty corridor- it should be so easy to run. There was no one in sight yet.

  
“I mean, two injured shinigami and a _woman_?” you laughed, “You couldn’t even take me on right now.”

  
For a horrible second you thought they didn’t get it, didn’t realize what you were saying, somehow took it as an insult you would ever stoop to use.

  
Then Yoruichi’s fist collided with the flesh right above your Hollow hole and you slumped, stumbled before her. She did not go easy on you and one of her kicks threw you onto your back. A second later you felt her fingers around your throat, squeezing.

Believable. Painful enough to work.

  
Her eyes were not as convinced as her actions alluded to and after a second of adrenaline-induced shock you glanced at your right side until she reacted.

  
Slim fingers followed the line of your shoulder, trailed down the sleeve and lifted it up. You saw her eyes widen, her lips press together.

  
The wound she exposed was still raw and the stump had not fully healed. In the midst of the purpleish-red mass there were the indentations of fingernails. However, that was not what made Yoruichi recoil, you could tell because her eyes followed the movement of the infection. There were small black leeches stuck in the flesh. As they moved you knew the large eyeballs on their sides were exposed, making up what wasn’t their bulbous fanged heads. By now you barely felt their teeth anymore.

  
“What the hell,” Hirako breathed out and craned his neck to get a better look, “What the fuck is going on?”

  
You attempted to bite up into the side of Yoruichi’s jaw. She evaded the attack and you did not waste time to tell her something under your breath, just two sentences that made her flinch.

  
Harribel was there within a moment, a tsunami descending upon you. Her fury was not directed at you just yet but you could feel it; the strength she had gathered that earned her the right to be the Primera Espada.

  
Yoruichi was thrown against the wall and you could breathe again. To Harribel it looked like a crisis averted, a minor setback.

  
“Can’t even perform such a basic task, Arrancar?” Candice said from the corridor. You heard her laugh and snarled.

  
“Oh, don’t worry, we expected this,”she said and extended a hand to help you up. As you hesitated she reached down and forcefully yanked you back up on your feet.

  
“I could have handled it,” you hissed and narrowed your eyes, “I don’t need your help.”

  
There was no anger to draw from right now so faking it was more difficult than expected. You summoned images into your mind and they worked like a spell; a kiss to your broken jaw, a hand on your shivering skin. Anger as bright as a falling star.

  
“These assholes know nothing,” you snapped, “They weren’t even fucking there to see what happened three years ago, trying to find the fucking Soul King in this shithole because of some righteous crap.”

  
Urahara understood what you were saying, you could see it in his eyes even while you spoke. _The Soul King isn’t here._

  
You sneered and turned your back on them, took a deep breath; you left.

 

* * *

 

 

Nel stopped you in the corridor right before you made it outside. It came as a surprise; but her sudden appearance was nothing compared to the shock you felt as she proceeded to tug you close.

  
She embraced you like one would an old friend, a long-lost sibling, with her hands curled against your spine and her face pressed against your neck. You didn’t reciprocate. You couldn’t.

  
“Who do they have in there?” she whispered and placed her palm at the nape of your neck, pressed down slowly until the warmth of her reiatsu soaked you.

  
You told her quietly and she sighed; defeated, resigned.

  
Being hugged was strange to you still; wrapping your arms around someone you cared for as if you wanted to trap them close to you. It required trust to function like it should.

  
But it had been ages since someone did this for you, even if it was just to create a diversion.

  
“I managed to show them my arm,” you muttered and her fingers pressed against the skin across the wound, focusing her transfer of power to the spot.

  
“They will make the connection,” Nel replied, “It’s hard to miss when you saw Yhwach’s weird leeches back then. They’ll know the Soul King is spreading the infection.”

  
You hummed to appease her, let her hug you closer.

  
“Here,” Nel said then and took your remaining hand in hers, placed something in your palm. You followed her lead without protest as she stuffed it into your pocket.

  
“What is it?”

  
“Reishi pills,” she answered immediately, “You looked starved when I last saw you. You are looking starved now.”

  
“You sure you wanna risk it?”

  
“You sure you don’t?” she responded and shook her head with grace, “Did you already forget what we promised-”

  
“I didn’t,” you interrupted her, too scared of a name to risk hearing it in your current state of mind. It didn’t belong in this world.

  
“I still wish I could do more,” she whispered. Her reiatsu streamed into you with control, pleasant and humming as if it tried to find its own voice. She attempted to lend you a little strength and you couldn’t find it in you to get angry. There was no doubt you needed it.

  
Nel squeezed you a little tighter and then let go. Hugs were strange things, human things.

  
“Just a bit longer,” she said and looked you in the eye as if there was anything she could do to help you, “Hold on just a little bit longer.”

  
“Sure,” you replied and smirked wryly, “Isn’t like I went anywhere these past three years.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re ambidextrous,” Michiru said, “That’s so cool.”

  
“You think?”

  
“Yeah!” she confirmed and laughed as your frown only deepened, “I mean, it’s horrible you are forced to make use of it because of the wound, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t admirable.”

  
The two girls had found you again just a day after you returned. They still had questions, many of them, but with their human consideration they tiptoed around it. It gave you time to prepare yourself.

  
“That Espada was here,” Ryo told you and sat down at your other side, completely fearless now.

  
“What, Luppi?” you asked and lifted your eyebrows, “Did you get rid of him?”

  
“Of course we did. He’s lying in a ditch somewhere.”

  
This time her comment did not earn her a glare, Michiru was busy chewing on her fingernails. She sat hunched up with her knees drawn against her chest. It reminded you of the way the sick people acted just hours before their time ran out, twitchy and uncontrolled while staying away from the light as if it could burn their skin.

  
“You infected?” you asked and kept your expression as neutral as you could.

  
“The fuck are you talking about?” Ryo snapped immediately and frowned even before she spun around to face you, “Do you think that’s funny?”

  
Fear was a peculiar thing, so familiar and yet always a novel experience since its trigger changed, its process varied. You were not sure who you were afraid for; those two stupid children who didn’t quite understand what was going on, or yourself as it had always been. Maybe someone else entirely deserved your worry, someone long gone and-

  
“It wasn’t a joke,” you said and shifted.

 

Michiru didn’t look at you at all and it stoked the source of anger inside you; the denial and the avoidance were the worst of choices.

  
“Look,” you told her and pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth for a while, “I’m just gonna lay down the facts and you can take it or leave it, ‘kay?”

  
Ryo looked on between the two of you, confused and angered by her fear.

  
“There’s some nasty shit in the water you guys drink,” you began and scratched the sore skin on your throat absentmindedly, “And in the food, which is why only you humans can get infected. If I devoured a contaminated human it wouldn’t do shit because we don’t actually digest the flesh or blood.”

  
“Souls,” Michiru added, “You go for the souls.”

  
“Yeah,” you confirmed and shrugged, “That’s just how it is. But that isn’t the important part here.”

  
She shied away as you shifted again and pulled yourself up until your spine didn’t hurt anymore. Luppi had not managed to break it as he bashed your head against the ground, had spared you of that one fate that would have ruined you entirely. It still hurt. It still mattered.

  
“It starts with an itch in your throat,” you said and swallowed, “Then there is a ringing in your ears that never goes away even when you try to sleep.”

  
Ryo looked like she was about to cry and her hands were shaking. Even as she stuffed them in her pockets you were sure they wouldn’t stop just like that.

  
“It doesn’t kill you right away,” you continued anyway and it was not as difficult as a human conscience would have told you it should be, “If you feel the urge to peel off your nails or shove something into your ear to stop the itch inside your skull, you still have a few weeks. Ain’t pretty, but-”

  
“It doesn’t feel like that at all,” Michiru said quietly and avoided your eyes, “I get headaches a lot. Sometimes my head feels like it’s burning up.”

  
“See?” Ryo jumped in and glared at you, “She’s fine, there is no way she isn’t-”

  
“Where are your parents? Your friends?”

  
You interrupted her without care for her feelings this time; those two dying kids hanging out with a dead creature because they felt safe with you. It was an unspoken fact, something you knew they would not admit to if only to stay more independent.

  
“None of your business,” Ryo dismissed your question.

  
“I don’t know where any of them are,” Michiru answered and this time she had to ignore the glare directed at her, ducked away and shielded her body with her arms wrapped around herself.

  
You sighed and licked your dry lips.

  
“Look, if you insist that you don’t have any of the symptoms, that’s fine with me. But the second the infection takes a hold of you you are gonna go for your friend’s throat and that’ll be that.”

  
“How do you even know that?” Ryo asked incredulously and stepped closer as if her own train of thought validated her doubt and granted her confidence, “You’re a Hollow, you said it yourself, you have no way of knowing what it does.”

 

* * *

 

 

_A week within a prison camp was spent in good company, of course._

 

* * *

 

 

“I watched it happen to someone,” you admitted and saw how her self-assurance faded as quickly as it had appeared, “Was fucking slow, that virus or whatever it is.”

  
“So what, it’s a zombie kind of thing? You gotta be kidding.”

  
“Ain’t nothing funny about bleeding out because your inner organs turn to mush,” you replied, “Just because it happens slowly doesn’t mean that the effects can’t be devastating.”

  
A picture of a human body on a wall, its anatomy exposed and bones sketched on paper like a set of items arranged to be painted. Empty eye sockets, the effects of skin rotting away.

  
“I don’t have any of the symptoms. It’s just a fever.”

  
“Or it might be more,” you told Michiru and you couldn’t recognize your own voice, “’m just saying, you gotta consider that maybe it is gonna happen to you. Takes a couple month to get really bad. Two, maybe three if you are lucky. The final stages are quicker. In the end-”

  
“No,” she replied and shook her head.

  
“See, denial isn’t gonna cut it if you are basically being consumed by your own body.”

  
“Leave her alone!” Ryo yelled at you and grabbed your collar, “Who do you think you are?”

  
“You wanted answers,” was the only reply you could give and the least likely to make them happy, “It’s not my fucking fault this is a question you need answered.”

  
Michiru coughed and you fell silent, looked over to her, remembered the time three years ago when you had known what the real stars looked like.

  
“Thank you,” she said and smiled at you with that childish naivety reserved to those who never saw hope as an invitation for disappointment.

  
”Thank you,” she repeated and kept her eyes on yours, “It’s really nice of you to worry about me. But I’m fine, really. I would never put my friends in danger like that, not even to save my own life.”

  
_I won’t lie to you_ , someone told you once as your hands were shaking and your mouth was so dry it hurt, _I know you can’t help it sometimes, but I want you to know I will always be honest with you even if the truth might hurt._

  
“Yeah,” you said and felt older than you had in a long while, “Okay.”

  
Ryo’s fingers still trembled right above your collar as if she considered shaking you again to force some sense into your head. In the end she lowered her hands and sat back down into the sand between the barracks.

  
Your shelters only ever grew more shabby and brittle as Las Noches’ journey progressed. The people around knew now there was no need to carry everything with them at all times, not if it could be stolen. Every additional unit of weight was a liability in a world where you moved on daily to escape being left behind.

  
“What if we stopped walking?” Ryo asked and sounded defeated especially as she giggled, “I mean, the rain will still fall and we might survive on something like the small animals the others hunt.”

  
You wanted to tell her that sometimes what the humans served her was not an animal at all; but you remembered the look in her eyes as her friend was threatened and with overwhelming clarity you began to realize that she would not care if it ensured their survival. Just like you did not have the luxury to care.

  
And maybe, just maybe, that friend a long time ago had been right as he told you that pessimism was not the answer to everything; that maybe there was an end to this and a truth to the claims of the desperate.

  
“I’m not gonna stay to find out,” Michiru answered her friend’s question, “I don’t wanna be left behind.”

  
Shawlong had voiced similar concerns just once, the never-ending fear of being rendered useless and thus being abandoned. You remembered how they told you they would not be able to follow the same path as you anymore. You remembered betrayal.

  
“There’s nothing out there to live on for you,” you decided to say and felt like the words made enough sense to be shared, “All life begins and ends with Las Noches around here.”

  
All eyes on you once again, the center of attention, the most important part of the puzzle.

  
“Did you try it?”

  
A question you expected.

  
“Nah,” you said and closed your eyes until swirls claimed the darkness, “A friend did.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hug count: 1


	10. Stain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, I guess this'll have to happen now!  
> Wanted to wait a bit longer but eh, y'know. The time was right.
> 
> Warnings for choking, violence, death. Some sad stuff. 
> 
> Man, the warnings just get better and better, I know. And there's still such a long way to go!
> 
> A big thank you @ everyone who read or is still reading this, everyone who commented and kudo'd and talked to me about it. This thing is a monster but y'all are patient and nice as all hell. Goddamn all of u. (<3)

* * *

 

 

“You didn’t kill me,” Tesla noted and rubbed the skin around his wrists. Where the restraints used to be there were red welts now, a testimony of how long he had worn the shackles.

  
“Good thing you were here to tell me, I wouldn’t have fucking noticed.”

  
Your voice was sharp and biting, an audible contrast to his monotone and callm way of speaking. It was what pissed you off the most; it reminded you of Ulquiorra and the way he looked at you whenever you dared to speak up. Now he was ash and you were a mess.

  
“Let me rephrase that,” Tesla said and stared right at you, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  
“Should I have?” you replied and grinned as you squatted down in front of him, “You got a death wish?”

  
It had started raining a while ago and you could feel the sopping wet mass of your hair drip water into the collar of your shirt. The droplets were cold on your skin and you shivered as they trailed down your back and chest.

  
“I want answers,” you snapped and leaned forward until you could see the black rim around his iris, “I wanna know why you were sent to kill me.”

  
“Who said I was-”

  
“Shut the fuck up, don’t pretend you were there to help me out. None of the Espada care enough to assist some fracción in the outskirts and even if they did, they wouldn’t have sent you.”

  
Tesla’s eyes were not as defiant as you expected; you remembered him as proud. Then again that had been years ago. A lot had changed.

  
“It wasn’t some sort of stupid grudge,” you continued and watched as he faltered, “If this was for Nnoitra then I’d be five feet under right now.”

  
“You sound very sure of yourself.”

  
“I am. You were there to observe and then kill me and the only reason I am alive right now is because that Quincy bastard shot you in the back. So spill.”

 

Tesla stayed quiet and pressed his teeth together tightly as if to stop his treacherous mouth from speaking. His injuries had not healed at all and you could still see some of the paths the acid had taken; ridges in the flesh like rainwater carving into the side of a mountain.

  
Edorad once saved Tesla from a Vasto Lorde and received a frown for it and nothing more; you remembered laughing because he might have expected gratitude.

  
“Do you honestly think anyone gives a shit about something you might know?” you asked and sneered, “Give up, Tesla. Honestly, you have no valuable information anyone but me cares about.”

  
His facade wavered; it showed in the way he blinked too fast and never quite knew where to place his hands.

  
“How long have you been here now?” you continued and narrowed your eyes, “Two weeks? Three? Not like you can tell.”

  
He averted his eyes and you knew he was down, taken out, defeated.

  
_I know it isn’t practical to show mercy, but sometimes killing isn’t the only option. At least I hope so._ Words you had trouble processing even now.

  
“No one fucking asked for you, okay?” you said and felt no remorse, “No one came to finish the job, no one took me down when you didn’t show up. Fuck, I walked into Las Noches a while ago and no one even wanted to know why you never made it back.”

  
Something Hollows shared was their loneliness, their hunger, their drive to band together and then destroy who they needed dead. Tesla had had Nnoitra and now there was nothing left of that _master_. You had made sure.

  
“I don’t-”

  
“Face it, you were played too, asshole.”

  
You rolled your shoulders and ran your hand through your hair to slick it back. No matter how aggressive your attitude, no matter how confident your threats- your eyes slid shut every few seconds, your muscles ached with the strain of exhaustion. It didn’t become easier to endure with time, you knew the pressure would culminate soon and leave you wheezing for air in a ditch. Tesla saw it too.

  
“I was there to kill you,” he admitted hesitantly and looked away, “But you were right. It wasn’t about a grudge.”

  
“Then why?”

  
“The Sexta. I was meant to kill you to make sure he knows his place.”

  
You frowned and shook your head.

  
”Luppi? What does he have to do with anything?”

  
It was Tesla’s turn to laugh, a quiet and refined sound that was nothing like your hysterical equivalent.

  
_You sound cute_ , someone told you once and laughed as you just snarled as a reply, _It’s true, don’t look at me like that._

  
“He has not followed his orders to the satisfaction of the Espada,” Tesla explained and shrugged. It did not look like he was used to the gesture; as if he copied it from someone and wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet.

  
“So they thought killing me would remind him to be a perfect fucking soldier? Do you guys know him at all?” you asked and snorted, “He’d congratulate you and then piss on my fucking corpse.”

  
Tesla looked a little taken aback and the glimmer of his teeth shining through his ruined cheeks shifted.

  
“He would lose his possession,” he said hesitantly and gauged your reaction, “And would be unable to replenish his power.”

  
“Yeah, but he doesn’t need that as much as-”

  
It was then you realized something with horrifying clarity, something that you had failed to make sense of so far and that never truly added up. It threw you for a loop and you could tell Tesla made the connection too.

  
“Are you going to dispose of me now?” he asked, “Now that you know?”

  
Your head was still spinning and you slowly got up without giving him an answer. He did not look like he was afraid, his expression was resigned and nothing else.

  
“You wanna die?”

  
“Not particularly,” Tesla replied and shifted, his bound wrists rubbing together. They shouldn’t be tight enough to cut off the circulation, but you imagined their very presence was enough to make him uneasy.

  
You watched him squirm for a bit before you turned away.

  
“Hey,” you called out, “I’m done here. He’s all yours.”

  
Tesla shifted again, craned his neck to see what was going on and who you were talking too.

  
“You’re just gonna take my word for it? Aren’t you afraid I was lying?”

  
“Shut up, Tesla.”

  
And he did; and his eyes widened even further as your words were repeated by the Quincy walking into the niche.

  
You had left him close to Las Noches where the sands would carry him across the desert together with the castle, hidden away by a protrusion in the wall.

  
“Well, well. You weren’t lying, this really does look like another stray.”

  
“I promised you, didn’t I?” you chuckled and waved your hand once in a dismissive manner, “That’s my cue.”

  
“Watch your step, Grimmjow,” Bambietta just replied, “Wouldn’t want to find you dead tomorrow.”

 

“Is that a threat?”

  
“No,” she answered, “A reminder I repaid my debt and owe you nothing now. Whatever you choose to do now is all on you.”

  
“Of course,” you replied and didn’t once turn back to face her as you made your way back into the rain, on to another errand.

  
The night was still young and your list had just grown longer.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time you awoke in the wasteland was a shock rather than a surprise. There was no doubt something horrible had transpired; you could taste it on your leaden tongue and feel it in the sand underneath your ten fingertips.

  
As you looked up there was an unfamiliar sky and the giant outline of Las Noches; something you had left behind, a silhouette taken out of a nightmare.

  
Seeing it now you almost took comfort in its threats.

  
The raindrops were warm on your skin tonight and it felt like there was a storm coming; it howled from afar and got ever closer the more you feared its arrival.

  
Then there were eyes on you, intrusive, suspicious. A scrutiny you were used to and yet never fully endured without shivering. There was a hatred so deeply ingrained in the core of your being that it was ludicrous to assume it could ever fade.

  
_You are more than just your anger_ , someone had assured you once with their hand on yours. It was the first time you were sure they had lied.

  
“I always wondered why you took so much every time,” you mused and tapped a finger against your chin, “If it was for torture then you should have taken your time, slowly depleting my power until I had no hope left. So why didn’t you?”

  
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  
Luppi answered as promptly as you had expected, nothing but a voice in the darkness for now. He was getting closer, his steps unsteady and his breathing a sound of discord.

  
After all this time his reiatsu was easy to recognize and almost comforting with how familiar it was. Had it not been for its cruel tinge, the mad edge his personality gave it, you could have felt relief right now.

  
“What do you think you are doing, walking around with your reaitsu flaring like this?” Luppi shouted and used sonido to get closer faster, “Are you as stupid as you look?”

  
In your dreams, Luppi did not have time to scream before you grabbed hold of his jaw. It unhinged with a click, a small noise like the ticking of a clock. His eyes bulged out of his skull as you reached up to tear away at his scalp until his brain pressed against your fingertips. You clenched your hand into a fist and the leftovers of warm tissue ran down over your palm. He did not have time to scream.

  
In this world, in the real one that had fucked up so badly, it wasn’t that easy.

  
You struck as soon as you saw him, jumped on top of him and forced him backwards into the sand with the weight of your body.

  
Luppi blinked up at you, completely unimpressed.

  
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” he asked and exposed his teeth, “Has the rainwater finally soaked your brain and fucked you up beyond repair, kitty?”

  
“You’re infected,” you laughed and watched as his amusement morphed into horror and then anger, “You’re fucking infected too, you miserable piece of shit.”

  
Your roles were reversed then, his hands on your throat and his knees at your sides.

  
Around you there was no audience, no one to cheer you on and nothing to find comfort in. There was no reason to recognize this spot within the outskirts; it was just a place like any other.

  
“That your great plan, Grimmjow?” Luppi hissed and his spit sprayed on your face as you saw the red veins in his eyes, “Shout lies at me and then get killed? What would your shinigami bitch say, huh, if he could see you like this?”

  
And you laughed through the stars you saw as the oxygen grew scarce.

  
“Three years and two days ago I went to the Soul King’s palace. One day later I ended up here,” you croaked and panted as your tongue began to swell, “You remember, don’t you?”

  
The screeching of a saw. A kick in the gut.

  
“The fuck are you talking about, you fucking piece of shit?” Luppi asked and sounded desperate even as you choked harder, tried in vain to snap your neck, “You don’t even have a weapon!”

  
He cried out as you sank your teeth into his neck, needle-sharp tips tearing away at the hierro and everything beneath. The mark on your skin pulsed but he was not fast enough.

  
Luppi did not make a sound as you ran him through, the edge of a blade protruding from his back.

  
Then he sputtered, looked down, attempted to grasp the hilt and free himself. For the first time in a long time you did not let him do as he pleased.

  
“Three years ago I buried Pantera right here,” you whispered into his ear as you reached up and tugged him so close you could smell the blood on him, “So you wouldn’t take her from me.”

  
Luppi wheezed as you grabbed his neck like you would with a dead rabbit, choked and whimpered as you ripped Pantera upwards through his stomach, ribcage, lung. A mess. A memory.

  
He whined in the back of his throat as you threw him onto his back.

  
There were no fancy words to be said.

  
Pantera pierced his heart, then his forehead, then his throat. Three stabs in quick succession, the hilt a familiar weight in your hand.

  
Then you reached and broke his neck with clean precision, your foot holding his chest down.

  
And that was it, after three years of humiliation and torture it was over with a snap. You did not spit on his corpse; not because you were honorable or better than him. There was no time. No need.

  
You felt like you were drowning, a small insect in the eye of the storm that twirled around you ceaselessly. It was as if the world had not registered what you did, as if it didn’t care at all.

  
Pantera was at your side, just as flayed, just as weary. The pulse of her soul was vengeful and subdued.

  
It was cold now, the rain a gentle pressure on your scalp. It washed away the blood, ran into your eyes, seeped into your mouth until you coughed to get it out.

  
Luppi’s dead stare was not directed at you, it was aimed at the desert. You got up on shaky feet.

  
There was nothing more to see.

 

* * *

 

_“Hey, Grimmjow,” he had said as he approached you. The poison was still burning inside of you, but by now it had calmed, settled down like a loyal dog by a fireplace._

  
_“What?” you asked and frowned where you sat on a low wall, perched like an animal and as far away from the crowd as possible._

  
_He sighed._

  
_“Look, we gotta talk about what happened-”_

  
_“No we fucking don't,” you interrupted him immediately and snarled._

  
_His eyes were as honest as ever, infuriating and obnoxious. A warm color. You could not stop staring._

  
_“I’m not here to lecture you, honestly, I just wanna know why you ran off like that. I mean, you got this far, right? Why risk your life now?” he asked and addressed the very core of your nature so casually you were stunned into silence._

 

_“Don’t we need to have that rematch when this is over? You better keep your promise,” he continued and sank down on the wall next to you. His feet dangled a little higher than yours and you watched him quietly as he settled down._

  
_What you expected was more talk, more questions, being reprimanded for running away. Instead he stayed quiet, his chin resting on his knees._

  
_After a while you realized you grew calmer with every breath. Even in his presence you were forced to lower your guard; as if his damn honesty was anything but a farce._

  
_However, your mind was in shambles and your mouth a traitor._

  
_“I hate crowds. Fucking annoying,” you muttered as time passed._

  
_He looked surprised._

  
_“What? What’s with that look?”_

  
_“I just- I didn’t expect you to answer,” he admitted and smiled that little half-smile you had seen before. It was still aimed at you and you scoffed and averted your eyes._

  
_“It’s the same for me, to be honest,” he told you, “It puts a lot of pressure on me to move on like this and I can never make sure they are all safe. That’s probably not your reason but yeah, I can understand that.”_

  
_“Someone get you a fucking medal.”_

  
_“Look, I dont wanna tell you how to think or how to live your life because you are your own person, but sometimes it’s better to wait for a perfect opportunity, okay?” he replied and kept on smiling until you had to look away again, “One step at a time.”_

  
_“Does sound like a fucking lecture to me.”_

  
_“Didn’t Nel give you one earlier? I expected her to.”_

  
_You refused to reply or remember how she had attempted to force reason into your skull and a pattern into your behavior to make sense of it._

  
_“Look, I know you’re in this to save your home and you don’t like allying with all these people, but we all have the same goal here,” he said and called you back into the here and now._

  
_“You want to save the entire fucking world.”_

  
_“Yeah. And yours, too,” he agreed, “So even if you don’t trust all of them, trust in me being stupid enough to mean it.”_

  
_Stupid was a good word for what you thought he was; but there was something else now, something undeniable and scary that you pushed to the back of your mind whenever it threatened to appear before you once more._

  
_He smiled so bright and you were uncertain it was meant for you even if you were alone._

  
_“Not everyone is your enemy. I know that’s difficult to believe and I don’t expect you to change in a day, but you have to trust me on this, okay?” he asked and grinned at you now, a boyish smirk that split his face in two. You could see the faint outline of freckles on the bridge of his nose._

  
_“Fuck off,” you replied and you were not surprised as he laughed._

  
_The next day Nelliel made fun of you in the unassuming way that she used when she was angry and couldn’t show it._

  
_“Staying with us today, Grimmjow?” she asked._

  
_“Oy Nel, don’t give him ideas, he’ll just try to observe all my new skills so he can beat me within a second,” he told her and feigned shock, “Isn’t that right?”_

  
_You could barely breathe._

  
_“Yeah,” you growled, “That’s right.”_

  
_It didn’t feel strange to follow him after that._

 

* * *

 

 

You woke up to a breathless, senseless, bottomless pit in your stomach and the weight of something more significant than you crushing your body.

  
The dream still lingered and you pressed your palm against your right eyelid. If you could only shove it into your skull so the images could vanish forever, retreat into those recesses of your brain that were of so little use in the wasteland.

  
You felt like you couldn’t breathe at all as it continued to stay with you. With blood on your tongue and water drumming onto your face there was no denying the fact any longer.

  
You missed, missed, missed Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....rip and rip


	11. tread softly because you tread on my dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty mean tbh I have warned a few people about it and I still feel bad
> 
> warnings for possible sadness and implied character death

* * *

 

 

“Tell us about your friend who left,” Ryo said and her voice was softer than usual, considerate where she didn’t have to be.

  
“Why?” you responded and frowned, “What’s so interesting about that?”

  
“Well, you werent always alone out here, right?” Michiru asked and shuffled closer as if this was just another day, another friendly meeting with people whose company she enjoyed. Sometimes she smiled at you and you wondered if she was naive enough to trust a Hollow she only met in a dying world.

  
This time it had been you who found them and not the other way around. They had taken a look at the blood around your mouth and the now spotless katana in your hand and made the connection quickly.

  
Luppi was as dead as he could be to you and you owed them a story.

  
“My friend was with me when I ended up here,” you said and trailed your tongue over the outside of your teeth, “One of the few other Arrancar who were strong enough to survive the prison camps. They evaluated us there, left us with the infected humans to see what would happen. Not that anything ever did.”

  
“Who are _they_?” Ryo asked, “The Espada?”

  
“Nah,” you replied and rubbed a spot above your mask, “The Quincy. Back then they were in full control.”

  
So the adrenaline and the pressure of your blood surged high and higher until your words were like poison and your heart bitter with it.

  
“He knew exactly what was going to happen if he stayed and stopped following Las Noches. The bastard just gave up.”

  
You could see it on their faces; this time they pitied you and the endless well of rage was more tempting than ever. This memory was as volatile as you were, another one on the long line of moments you buried deep in denial.

  
So you waited for a question like you would for a landmine while walking; so restless and wound tight you thought you were going to snap before they ever opened their mouths.

  
Michiru cleared her throat and if you had been in your resurrección form your fur would have bristled.

  
“What was he like?” she asked and folded her hands.

  
“Yeah,” Ryo agreed, “Tell us about him.”

  
You slumped as the tension drained from you and the exhaustion you felt now was so very different from the one caused by pure physical tiredness.

  
“Sure,” you said and huffed out a laugh.

  
So you told them the story of Starrk who went into the desert and never returned.

 

* * *

 

 

_You lived to see some of the Espada again._

  
_“Thought you got yourselves killed,” you laughed as they stood gathered to greet you, “Well done, assholes.”_

  
_Harribel deigned you with neither a response nor eye contact, Aaroniero’s two faces were expressionless as always._

  
_There was Starrk who smiled and Zommari who would die just hours later as the Quincy decided to stake a claim on these lands. There were the remains of another who had not made it in time to greet you; consumed upon arrival._

  
_“The Soul King is not happy with your performance, Grimmjow,” Nel said where she stood near the entrance._

  
_“And I think his was utter bullshit,” you replied, “We can’t always get what we want.”_

  
_Blood was still pouring from your arm and you could feel the leeches move, deeper inside and along the bone. They would stay near the surface so you could tell when they pierced the healed skin again. Their teeth tore through whenever the flesh attempted to mend itself._

  
_Luppi was there behind you, always watching now._

  
_He dragged you off into the desert later, banned you to the outskirts and expressed his wish for the others to avoid you._

 

* * *

 

 

“You would’ve liked him,” you said and sneered, “All kind and polite and shit.”

  
“That’s not really what you’d expect from an Espada,” Ryo commented, “He was one, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

_“You just declined your spot as the Primera? You must be fucking kidding me.”_

  
_Starrk shrugged and sat down next to you. He hadn’t changed at all, not since you saw him at the last Espada meeting Aizen called. “Don’t be afraid” sounded like a joke to you now._

  
_You, on the other hand, were changed to the core._

  
_“I was loyal to Aizen,” Starrk lied and closed his eyes before he even leaned back into the sand, “This is different.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“He never told me how he died,” you said and showed your teeth in a voiceless snarl. Your surroundings were not hostile at all an it felt strange to be moderately shielded from harm; even if it was just a tarp to cover you and two foolish human children. They still watched you without fear. They had grown accustomed to your instable moods.

  
“How do you know he did?” Michiru asked and she flinched as you stared at her directly, “Before, I mean. How do you know he got killed inbetween Aizen’s assault and ending up here?”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Lilynette’s gone,” Starrk told you the first time he found you after Luppi drained you of your strength._

  
_You had shouted at him to stay back and leave you the fuck alone, if only to save face. Starrk didn’t listen and kept you company if you wanted to or not; he started to talk as you stayed quiet._

  
_“I came back and she didn’t. Ironic. I would have thought she was more loyal to the cause.”_

  
_“Why, because you associate with me?” you growled and retched as another wave of nausea overcame you. The infection felt like it was spreading inside your throat, punching holes into the flesh. If the pressure behind your eyeballs was any indication it wouldn’t take long until they were pushed out, too; the optic nerve giving in to the strain until the eyes were dangling before your face. Rip them out, destroy the tissue. You didn’t have the strength to dispel the mental images._

  
_“I asked them not to fight,” Starrk said and his voice was calming and pleasant, a deep rumbling sound, “But I don’t blame them for refusing. I was the enemy to them and they couldn’t take the risk.”_

  
_You laughed at him and his ridiculous pacifist nature; the very strongest of you all and he still refused to make use of it. You had had this conversation before._

  
_“What the fuck are you so depressed for?” you had asked back then, “You got nothing to fear, don’t take this shit for granted.”_

  
_“It’s lonely at the top,” he had answered and his lips twitched as you rolled his eyes._

  
_“Why do you?” you asked now, “Associate with me? I don’t need your fucking help.”_

  
_Starrk shrugged._

  
_“I am not known to be reasonable.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“So you two just hung out together?” Ryo asked, “Weren’t you suspicious? I mean, he said he was loyal to Aizen and all.”

  
For a moment you considered lying, but it had been years and the urge to finish the story won out.

  
“I didn’t know it back then,” you explained, “But the fucking idiot was just biding his time. He had no idea where to go or what to do so he stayed with me for a bit and then just gave up. There was nothing to be suspicious about, if he had a fucking agenda even he didnt know shit about it.”

  
You didn’t tell them about the time he kissed you and laughed as you only gave him a bewildered look. That was a memory you were not willing to share. It wasn’t until much later you realized it was his attempt at saying goodbye.

  
“So that was it?” Michiru said and sounded disappointed, “He left and you never saw him again?”

  
“Yeah,” you lied through your teeth, “That’s all.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“I buried my weapon the first day I got here,” you explained once, “I had to keep her safe.”_

  
_“Do you plan to get her back?” Starrk asked, “Pantera surely doesn’t appreciate being left like that.”_

  
_You were surprised he remembered her name at all; even if you refused to admit it openly the ranks of the Espada had been chosen for a reason._

  
_“Las Noches moves in a pattern,” you said, ignoring his question since you had no answer, “I am going to see if it can be figured out.”_

  
_“How are you going to do that?”_

  
_“I’ll fucking count, what else is there to do?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Pantera was quiet as you ran your fingernails across her blade.

  
“Grind,” you whispered and she did not react at all. Maybe it was the lack of a limb, the infection, your low reiatsu; maybe it was all of them and the air that you breathed. It didn’t matter- she could also be avoiding Luppi’s touch that was burned into your skin and there was nothing you could do.

  
It had taken you longer than usual to get her to materialize; Di Roy joked once that she had to be just as stubborn as you. He hadn’t been wrong and yet you knew this was different. Pantera was experiencing an emotion strong enough to effectively silence her- so whatever it was, you guessed you were better off not knowing.

  
With your ear pressed to the sand and your breathing regulated you should have been able to sleep- that was the logical conclusion. But you were irrational and unpredictable and so you stared ahead into the dark of the day. The rain wasn’t falling just yet, the sky was clear and tinged red again.

  
“Harribel said the nights are growing longer,” you said under your breath, so quiet no one would ever hear, “Next year I would have found only sand.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“What do you mean, you are gonna stay here?” you asked and raised your voice, “That’s fucking stupid.”_

  
_Starrk didn’t budge and you felt like an animal trying to get its dead parent to wake up. Your head was full of questions._

  
_“Well, one of us has to, right?” he asked and smiled, “To test your theory.”_

  
_“I told you, Pantera-”_

  
_“She could be stolen. Overlooked.”_

  
_By now you were seething, wishing so desperately to tear something apart._

  
_“Fine,” you snapped, “Have it your way. Go out there and die, what the fuck do I care?”_

  
_You turned to leave and as he called out to you you remembered five Hollows promising to follow you into hell itself. Five broken fingers on a ruined claw._

  
_“I’ll leave something to find my way back,” he told you, “Something worthless and easy to recognize. If I see it, I know where to go.”_

  
_“And if you don’t find it?” you asked without looking back, “What then?”_

  
_You could almost hear him smile. He did not need to answer._

 

* * *

 

 

You awoke with a start because the weight at your side pulled you down into the sand.

  
The humans asked what was wrong as you frantically got up and tugged the watch out of your pocket.

  
You saw it now; should have made the connection sooner. The symbols on its lid and back looked like a simplistic drawing of a fire. A single flame. Your mouth was shut so tight it hurt. Grinding teeth, bleeding gums.

  
_Take it back_ , Pantera said and sounded tired enough to die.

  
You dropped the watch right in front of you, watched it fall, watched it land.

  
It was far too little and far too late.

 

* * *

 


	12. K.I.N.G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey pal chum buddy friends!!!
> 
> anyone I talked to about this fic in the last few weeks knows about the new addition to the tags and voilá there he is, finally, just for a bit rn  
> (@ giri: the wait is over!!! your fave is here!!)
> 
> Also, you know those chapters or scenes where you can just feel the contradiction coming up??? this is it for me so rip
> 
> warnings for the effects of poison, mentions of beatings

* * *

 

The next time you were brought before the Espada you were sure you were ascending the scaffold.

  
They resided high above the outskirts in the castle atop Las Noches, built with intricate detail and lavish appeal. Its color blinded you as you stepped through the Garganta that would save you the energy to climb.

  
“No insults today?” you asked and grinned, “You need to step up your game, Apacchi.”

  
“Just shut your damn mouth.”

  
You laughed and dodged her hand as she reached to shove you again. The step you took to the side brought you to the other side of the Garganta- right against the cold wall built around the Espada’s castle. It was smaller than Las Noches itself, its edges sharp and rooms narrow. It almost seemed as if the Soul King who constructed it wanted it to stand out.

  
“Look, you can joke all you want, Grimmjow,” Apacchi said, “But you are in some deep shit now if they call you back up here. You aren’t really welcome, y’know.”

  
“Oh really.”

  
“What did you do this time? Help the shinigami again?” she asked and shook her head, “You must be fucking joking.”

  
So the news had not reached her yet; it was the first time you considered that maybe this was not about Luppi’s death at all.

  
“Well, Apacchi, what _haven’t_ I done?” you asked and let your grin spread until the corners of your lips hurt.

  
She scowled but you could tell that she was not unamused. A grudging respect for each other was what you were used to from before; the Tres Bestias hurled insults at you and you returned them diligently.

  
“Well, whatever you did, I heard they aren’t very happy about it up there. And that means you are gonna get your ass kicked.”

  
Apacchi stopped you as she finished speaking, a rough hand on your shoulder. You turned to face her and were surprised at how serious she looked.

  
“No, really now,” she began and frowned, “Why did you do that shit back then? Help those shinigami?”

  
“I wasn’t gonna watch Yhwach burn Hueco Mundo to the fucking ground without lifting a damn finger to stop it.”

  
“Bullshit,” Apacchi snorted, “That was before they won. I mean after. Why did you help them the second time around?”

  
“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh?”

  
“Yeah, dipshit, that’s why I’m asking. It can’t all have been for that one shinigami brat, right?”

  
You still grinned at her even if your hand twitched towards your sword.

  
“You’re really gonna make them wait?”

  
Apacchi’s frown deepened. Then she let go of you and spat to the side.

  
“You were fucking stupid to ally with the losing side,” she said, “And now you’re gonna pay the price for it.”

  
You pressed your hand against the left side of your chest.

  
“Didn’t know you cared so much,” you said in a mock-sorrowful tone, “I am touched.”

  
Apacchi looked like she was going to say something else, maybe an insult or anything else mildly rude in nature. However, footsteps were approaching you, followed by a force of reiatsu that quieted yours immediately. You were both just fracciónes, no matter how fierce or how angry.

  
A few Quincy approached you; Sternritter you had seen before but never bothered talking to. There was the sharpshooter, the one with the winged helmet; walking beside them you saw another familiar face.

  
The tall man with the dark hair and one stray bang lining the side of his face lifted his eyebrows as he saw you but stayed silent.

  
There were more of them out there in the wasteland; you had spotted the spindly creature that instilled fear in the hearts of all those who were watched by it. The one you cut in half before. Then the one Kurosaki had called his friend.

  
They were de jure in charge, had been ever since you arrived. White upon white, the Quincy cross emblazoned even on their reiatsu. You weren’t going to pretend like you understood their hierarchy- they only observed, it was the mass of foot soldiers you saw in the prison camps and the rallies in the outskirts. Luppi had laughed at them, called them fools and then cowered when they approached.

  
Behind their group you could see Candice and Bambietta carrying a person in their midst whose feet dragged across the ground. A face you had not seen before. So there were more out there. Watching, waiting. A call of their name away from the Soul King’s bidding.

  
“This is Espada business,” Apacchi addressed them, “What do you want?”

  
“It’s alright. They have permission.”

  
Harribel stepped out of the shadows as if she had always been part of them; as if it was her natural element. Apacchi flinched and so did you- the Primera Espada was fast and undetectable if she wanted to be.

  
Only the female Quincy walked on into the building behind you; Bambietta glanced at you and kept going without hesitation.

  
All but one of the other Quincy paid you no mind.

  
“Well,” Askin Nakk Le Vaar said and and smiled at you as if you were old friends, “This is a surprise.”

  
Strangely enough his smile faded as you punched him in the face.

 

* * *

 

 

_One of the first things you thought as you collapsed was “what if they came to rescue me?”. You didn’t like the idea at all; being indebted to Kurosaki was bad enough on its own, adding his friends to the list of people you owed was unacceptable._

  
_The Quincy was still talking, probably drinking another cup of coffee sitting down on your spine. You couldn’t feel anything; your body was paralyzed, the poison spreading like new veins taking over your skin._

  
_It didn’t hurt._

  
_Every second slowed the world down a little more, tinted it grey and skewed your perspective. Your tongue was heavy and motionless in your dry mouth and you thought you could feel it swell. Next would be your throat until you suffocated, just seconds after you made it back to the battlefield._

  
_All of it just because you could not control your impulsive urges; the will to strike and kill and prove you were still capable of holding your own. That desire overshadowed all; they needed to see you were not weak, you were strong and cunning and-_

  
I’m Kurosaki’s enemy.

  
_It was a reply you had used oftentimes, one that was true and valid and an explanation the Quincy did not understand. At what point did you ever say anyone else was allowed that title?_

  
_If one of them found you it would tear you apart. Dying was not a better choice, but the thought of someone seeing you like this, someone realizing how badly you failed, seemed worse to your delirious mind._

  
_Nelliel would not laugh at you, but she would have that exasperated look on her face, the one she reserved only for you because you were trouble and a nuisance and beneath her standard of what was effective._

  
_Yoruichi would laugh._

  
_Kurosaki would not mind helping you, you were sure of that. But thinking of him and his stupid eyes and stupid hands pulling you back up sent your mind into a frenzy; not him, not him, not him._

  
_In the end, none of them came._

  
_A hand pressed against your back and you flinched because you could feel nothing but the pressure; not the touch itself, just its repercussions._

  
_“Thank goodness you are alive,” Orihime Inoue said and her power swamped over you like a warm breeze, “Give me a second.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Apacchi dragged you away before you could strike a second time, her hand on the back of your head as if you were nothing but a disobedient puppy. It disgusted you how fast your body fell into the practiced subdued behavior- _he is gone gone gone you are free you can live you can be okay if you just-_

  
“Is there anyone in this entire world that you haven’t pissed off?” she cursed under her breath, “Fuck, is there at least a Quincy that doesn’t hate you?”

  
“Is there one _you_ don’t hate?” you replied immediately, “I’m not the people pleasing type, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  
“Yes but I took you for the kind of person who wants to stay alive. You’re just being suicidal and it’s annoying.”

  
You scoffed in reply and refused to acknowledge that she was right and more perceptive than you ever gave her credit for. Right now your head was a birdcage, a storm, a collapsing city. Betrayal.

  
_“You don’t need to worry so much.”_ Words to live by or forget.

  
Mila Rose and Sung-Sun joined you before you ever reached the room the Espada currently occupied; their trio reunited despite their differences. They spared you no words as a greeting, just silently fell into step with Apacchi again who suddenly seemed uneasier than before.

  
You wanted to mock them, ask if they suddenly cared so much about you that they lost their voices. But you didn’t; because there were scars on Mila Rose’s chin and one wrong word could topple what already relied on brittle balance. Observation was key.

  
“Anything I need to know before I go in there?” you asked. A general question, nothing specified, no risk.

  
“Temperance,” Sung-Sun replied dryly, “Although I doubt that will come easy to you.”

  
“The same goes for all of you.”

  
Apacchi ground her teeth together and you watched her two companions carefully. Sung-Sun showed no visible reaction. One glance at Mila Rose explained their anxiety.

  
“Why’d they cut out your tongue?” you asked. A casual question, a casual tone.

  
All three of them stopped and stared at you as if you had grown a second head. It was fascinating how surprised they were by the fact that you could be perceptive.

  
“What are you talking about?” Apacchi asked and her voice was so aggressive its volume hurt your ears, “Mind your own damn business.”

  
“It _is_ my business if she was silenced because of what I did. Because then they will take more than my tongue.”

  
Grudging respect once more. You noted that Mila Rose had not changed stance at all; she faced you with her shoulders square and her hand on her weapon. All three were ready to strike at any given moment, just as much survivors as you were.

  
“Whatever,” you said and turned away.

  
The Espada were waiting and so was their fake court; as if this had not been decided already. As if there was a choice to be made.

 

* * *

 

 

It was like a strange case of déjà-vu to walk into their chamber and see them all high on their platforms. Only you and the unlucky Quincy were on the ground level. Approaching him from the back you followed the silvery line of his restraints; they curled around his wrists and around his fingers. It struck you as strange.

  
He looked up at you as you walked to stand beside him. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lip was split and bleeding.

  
You got the feeling you knew him even though you had never seen him before.

  
“A pleasure,” you growled and watched as he cracked a wary smile.

  
“He can’t hear you, Grimmjow,” Candice shouted from her place above you, right next to Aaroniero. He looked about as uncomfortable as two heads in a jar could.

  
The Quincy next to you shrugged as you diverted your attention back to him. He gestured towards his ears and shrugged again, turning away from you to face the array of people waiting to judge you.

  
Next to Aaroniero you saw Cirucci sneering, Ggio looking up at the ceiling as if nothing bored him more than the Hollow equivalent of a trial. Bambietta was there trying to avoid getting too close to the Arrancar as if their presence itself could poison her.

  
Nelliel offered you the briefest of smiles but it was quickly overridden by concern; you followed her gaze and saw Harribel’s fracciónes cower in the corner. You wondered if they were afraid to face their Espada again.

  
Then the Primera herself entered and you felt foolish for believing she would make her subordinates fear her.

  
She nodded at you and walked over to where the last Espada stood, took her place right next to-

  
“Grimmjow,” she addressed you, “I assume you know why you have been brought here today?”

  
“Even if I said no I couldn’t stop you from enlightening me, could I?” you responded and grinned as they all looked taken aback and exasperated, “So go the fuck ahead already.”

  
It was better to make them list your crimes instead of assuming what they were talking about were particular things- admitting to those could cost you your head unnecessarily.

  
Their reaction to your insolence was not surprising; there was nothing they liked about you. They hated your attitude, your scars, your voice as you disrespected their authority. With Aizen’s Espada it had been the same; but their ruler had shown his face.

The Soul King was a shadowy figure whose presence everyone in the room was aware of at all times; but he did not choose a throne to watch you from. Of course that didn’t mean his eyes were not open, his ears not listening.

  
“You might have surmised,” Aaroniero said with his deep voice, “We are one Espada short.”

  
You grinned up at him.

  
“A promotion? You shouldn’t have.”

  
A burst of reiatsu sent you down on one knee, but your blood was boiling even before that. You hit the ground with a grunt.

  
Anger was a neon color, as sharp and vibrant as a freshly whetted blade. It punctured you like a hook would a human throat.

  
You lifted up your head with some difficulty to see who was holding you down; eight pairs of eyes were fixed on you.

  
“The prisoners you were meant to interrogate escape just a few days after you talked to them,” Cirucci said and snorted, “Then Luppi mysteriously disappears.”

  
“With your history of desertion it is hard to imagine you were uninvolved,” the Tercera said. Tall, spindly. Just like you had described them to the two girls.

  
It took you all your willpower not to look over to Nelliel and confirm what they said; it could get both of you killed, one glance to hint there had been anything like a conspiracy.

  
”That bastard kept my reiatsu level so low I couldn’t win a fight against a fucking pile of sand,” you told them, “I won’t pretend like I didn’t want the fucker dead, but how d’ya think I killed him, huh? With the power of friendship?”

  
The Quincy by your side was grinning now, exposing two perfectly white but incomplete rows of teeth. Judging by the condition of the rest of his face you could safely assume he had been beaten just before he was dragged in here.

  
“There was a witness,” Harribel said and her voice chilled you, “However, she was silenced before she could tell us anything.”

  
You glanced over at Mila Rose and tried to discern if they were bluffing. No one had been there when you tore Luppi apart, you were sure of it.

  
Then suddenly everything fell into place in your mind; every little detail about this _trial_ that made no sense to you.

  
“So that’s why he is here,” you said and gestured towards the Quincy, “He’s gonna read her lips, huh?”

  
Another pulse of reiatsu and you grew so dizzy you could barely keep yourself from gasping. It was not difficult to imagine Kurosaki telling you to be more patient; to shut your mouth until speaking could no longer kill you.

  
_Concern._

  
You barely paid attention as Mila Rose relayed her message; her lips moving ceaselessly whilst no voice could be heard; and you wondered for the first time who had cut her tongue and if she blamed you. It was not the worst deduction to make.

  
“Tell us what she said,” the Tercera Espada said with a voice so portentously that you ached to roll your eyes. They looked at you, assessed, observed. You were used to it by now.

  
The Quincy cleared his throat.

  
“It’s really difficult to decipher withou the tongue, but I think she saw this Arrancar with the dead Espada. It was raining. They fought.”

  
His voice was a little unsteady, maybe a bit louder than it was expected usually.

  
“Did Grimmjow kill him?” Ggio asked. It was the first time he spoke up since you first made your way into their chamber for your original punishment. His eyes glinted with an unfamiliar emotion

  
“The fracción says that he did.”

  
A cold shiver ran down your spine. You stayed quiet as if any word was a wrong step on brittle ice. Careful, one small movement at a time.

  
All eyes on you once more. Demanding, judging.

  
“However,” the Quincy disturbed the silence he couldn’t hear, “She said it was in self-defense.”

  
“What do you mean?” Nelliel asked and sounded so cold you almost believed she fit right into their ranks. She repeated her question as their translator stared at her blankly.

  
“She watched how the Espada attempted to strangle this Arrancar. Apparently the Sexta was impaled with his own sword during their struggle.”

  
Even before he finished his sentence you looked at Harribel. She met your eyes and didn’t move a single muscles on her face; but she didn’t have to.

  
“Is there any chance you could have misinterpreted that?” she asked, never breaking eye contact with you even if she addressed the Quincy.

  
“Nah. That part was clear.”

  
“Well then, I suggest Grimmjow is transferred to a different Espada,” Harribel said, “The Soul King wishes for him to stay a fracción and we have other witnesses that suggest Luppi was interested in rebellion. Is that not right, Quincy?”

  
Candice gave an off-handed but affirmative reply and suddenly that was it; the noose cut from your neck and your shaky legs steadied by survival.

  
The Soul King had arrived and forced this onto the Espada; a _civil_ way to address problems, something you had never used or needed. Death was a common method to deal with betrayal or inconvenience in Hueco Mundo- trying to take that away from your kind was futile and impeding.

  
It was like Aizen and his fancy tableware. What a silly idea, forcing cutlery on a Hollow to try and make it tame, to squeeze its habits into the restriction of rules.

  
So this court was as useless as Aizen’s attempts had been, maybe even more so. Yet the Soul King didn’t care; of course he didn’t. You wouldn’t either.

  
“Take them both back to the outskirts,” you heard Harribel say and traded looks with the Quincy; what was a mercy for you might have been a punishment for him.

  
Candice was the first to walk up to him.

  
“Oh, don’t look so gloomy, Bazz,” she said and tugged on his restraints, “That shithole isn’t as bad as you think.”

  
“It’s worse,” Bambietta giggled.

 

* * *

 

 

The third Espada stopped you like he had the first time he was appointed. All he had to do was call your name at a moderate volume and you stopped in your tracks.

  
“What is it?” you asked without turning to face him.

  
“Is this what you resort to now? Amicicide?”

  
“Luppi was not my friend.”

  
“I used to think I was,” he replied.

  
You looked over your shoulder and grinned as if to show off all your razor teeth. A threat. A reminder.

  
“What, is the spot among the Espada not enough for you?” you asked and laughed, “Huh, Shawlong?”

 

* * *

 


	13. fort(e)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I everyone about this at least three times but I am just gonna throw it out there again right here: so this fic has like, three parts and we're slowly approaching the end of the first one. (its so long.................... what have I even done;.....................)
> 
> Not so much to say about this chapter.  
> Warnings for mild sadness. Mediocre sadness. An order of minimal sad. No gore this time, I think, but don't y'all worry, there will be more of that.

 

* * *

 

_It was right there in the way he moved, in the slump of his newly formed shoulders and the tension visible in every fiber of his resurrected body._

  
_“What happened, Grimmjow?” Shawlong asked and sounded so lost and desperate it might have broken someone else’s heart._

  
_You were quiet and he got angry, more furious than you had ever seen him before, more furious than when he was spat at by Barragan’s fracciónes. A helpless rage you could relate to. You still thought he was pathetic for forcing it on you._

  
_“Whaddya want me to say?” you asked and sneered, your hand right above the gaping wound in your arm, “Apologize? Fuck off. I don’t gotta explain myself to you.”_

  
_Shawlong took a step closer and you noted he looked different- empowered by rank and revival and not being punished for choosing the wrong side._

  
_“You helped the shinigami. The one we fought. Our natural enemies!” he said and shook his head, “What has gotten into you?”_

  
_You shrugged and watched as he bit his lip. Watched the king fall for once, watched him as he was ground to dust._

  
_“I just don’t understand,” Shawlong muttered, “Is there an explanation? Were you forced? Were you planning to betray them?”_

  
_It was such a strange thing to think about; he had not been there for everything that happened after his death, had never even seen the possibility of you changing your ways._

  
_“I chose a side and it ended up being the wrong one,” you said, “Ain’t nothing complicated about it.”_

  
_It was almost sad how much he lit up, how his hope returned for just a brief moment._

  
_“So you realize what you did was wrong?” he asked, “You realize that nothing good can come from you allying with one of them?”_

  
_“I would make the same fucking choice again,” you answered, “Don’t fucking try so hard, Shawlong. Sometimes things are as easy as they seem to be. I helped them. That’s all there is to it.”_

  
_He stared at you with absolute horror that only slowly moved into an anger you never thought he could feel. In the desert he had always known how to keep a level head, how to calm you down and keep you going. You were a king._

  
_“So we died following you into a battle you never meant to fight?” he asked, “We were expendable and you decided to switch sides to save your own skin?”_

  
_“Survival instinct,” you said and shrugged, “That shouldn’t come as a surprise.”_

  
_But to him it did; and to him it was betrayal._

  
_Nakeem, Di Roy, Yylfordt and Edorad had died believing you would carry on and avenge them; they would not appreciate you ended up helping their murderers._

  
_“Was it to protect Hueco Mundo?” Shawlong asked quietly now as if there was something, somewhere, that could save you in his mind._

  
_“It wasn’t,” you told him and watched as the crown you formed shattered for him, “I was there because they asked me to.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“So this is interesting,” Ggio said as he searched you out in the outskirts the next day, “I never expected it to look like this.”

  
You watched him from your sleeping place on the ground; the sky had begun to brighten and the rain should set in soon.

  
“Did ya expect sunshine and fucking rainbows?” you asked.

  
Ggio shrugged and crouched down to pick up a stone with a peculiar shape; placed it down carefully and picked up the next.

  
Somehow you had known Nelliel would not be chosen as the Espada you worked for; even though there was no evidence against her people were suspicious of your relationship. It was less than clever to risk her position to help you out.

  
So they chose Ggio, the only one who had never given two shits about what was going on in the outskirts because he was safe up above Las Noches. A Hollow instinct was to ensure your own survival at all cost, after all.

  
“I expected more, uh, corpses?” he admitted and rubbed his neck, “This isn’t much worse than Hueco Mundo.”

  
Where the world of Hollows was cold and static this one was the exact opposite; always on the move and in a constant state of flux.

  
_You are used to being cold, huh_ , someone assumed once, _We better get you warmed up._

  
“You gonna eat up my reiatsu now?” you asked and yawned, “If so, get it over with already. I sleep better when I am half-dead.”

  
Ggio crouched down in front of you next and reached out for your neck without asking permission. You had to stop yourself from biting off his hand as soon as it got too close to you.

  
“You still have Luppi’s mark,” he commented, “Figures he would use some flower. Probably a poisonous one.”

  
You had never bothered to ask what its shape was; somehow the mental image of a plant came as a relief.

  
“I am gonna use a tooth,” Ggio told you and traced the outline of the symbol he chose on your sensitive skin. One time, twice, until your wound tingled in the shape of a tooth.

  
Then there was the sting and the burning ache it left as your new Espada burned his mark into you.

  
It left you drained after he was done, completely exhausted while he looked invigorated and satisfied.

  
“I’ll get the hell back to my place up there now,” Ggio told you as you sank into the sand, “Shit, you look worn out. Is it that bad?”

  
You growled out something rude and lifted up the stump of your right arm.

  
“Ah yeah, the infection,” Ggio nodded, “I heard. Kinda sucks. But ah well, what can you do now.”

  
“Fuck off.”

  
He laughed. Luppi had done that, too, in the beginning before he grew frustrated with the way he was treated and the way life was going nothing as it had been carefully mapped out before. Freedom always came with a price.

 

* * *

 

 

Michiru and Ryo built something like a tent around you this time; with your tired body in the center.

  
“What do you wanna know about today?” you slurred and tried to get up until one of them applied pressure to your spine.

  
“It’s okay, don’t worry.”

  
“Yeah, just get some sleep.”

  
You had expected this; they were getting attached, just like they should. However, it was a different sensation as you thought it would be. Being worried about.

  
_Not pity_ , Kurosaki told you once, _Pity is different. I am concerned._

 

* * *

 

 

_Walking beside him was still weird; and yet you searched out his side the second you left the strange black box. Inside of it the walls and the ceiling had seemed the most safe and promising, outside there were people judging you and an empire that prayed for your death. Quincy hated Hollows with a passion you reserved for anger alone._

  
_Seeing Ichigo Kurosaki again was strange, as well. He stood there in front of you, his back turned, his neck exposed- you could go in for the kill without a second thought and yet he didn’t think of it._

  
_There was a lump in your throat and a tremor in your claws and suddenly you wanted to prove you were stronger than him now, stronger and faster and-_

  
_It didn’t even matter. You imagined it again, him dying to you and just like the last few months there was nothing, no response._

  
_Just like that last time he fought you, just like every moment you could not make sense of. Your hand in his. His back turned as he protected you. Him smiling as if you had not just threatened to kill him._

  
_You wanted to yell and tear away at something until it lay still and bleeding. Instead you walked with him for a while, just a moment, until the shame was too much._

  
_Kurosaki had seen you, really seen you, as you howled and struggled and gave up in the end. He knew._

  
_And wasn’t that just the most terrifying thought of them all._

 

* * *

 

 

“I think it’s shaped like a dick.”

  
Michiru gasped and protested vehemently.

  
“No, it’s an animal! Like, a whale maybe. Or a bunny.”

  
“I think it’s shaped like a dick to match his personality.”

  
You listened to them bicker and lifted your eyebrows as their suggestions only grew more and more ludicrous.

  
“He said it was a tooth,” you said and tried to catch a glimpse over your shoulder to no avail, “But really, who the fuck even knows.”

  
What had woken you earlier today was the feeling of something cool and soothing pressing down on the fresh wound on your neck.

  
Shaking the grogginess from your sleep-addled mind you looked up to see Michiru with a rag in her hand.

  
“Oh, hello!” she greeted you and shifted as if she was embarrassed, “I was just, you know, trying to clean the wound. There was sand stuck in it and I thought it might hurt.”

  
By now it should not have come as a surprise to you and yet it did; every time they helped you it was a shock once more and it began to annoy you how something so trivial could have such an effect.

  
_You’re just not used to it, I know. We understand._

  
It made you furious, filled your head with sourceless anger that no longer had a connection to reality. Condescending, lying, spineless scum without reason.

  
“It seems to heal a little better now that the wound is clean.”

  
The words were still kind, still enough to hide your face in shame.

  
“Why the fuck do you go through all this trouble?” you muttered, “You finally believe I am who I claimed to be?”

  
Michiru shrugged.

  
“I don’t think it matters very much now,” she said and carefully rubbed the outer edges of the mark until they stung, “My sister said it isn’t clever to trust you, but honestly, I am tired of that.”

  
“Sister, huh?” you asked and watched as she flinched, “Should have figured.”

  
A secret kept, another round played of a benign game. Some things were better left unsaid and you held your tongue.

  
“Watch out who you tell about that,” you mumbled and curled your fingers in the rough sand, “They might use it against you.”

  
Michiru smiled and carefully removed the cloth. Your skin was still cool and tingled now, the ache of the mark almost gone.

  
“You know, before all of this collapsed,” she explained and gestured at the desert, “I couldn’t even see Hollows.”

  
You were quiet and let her continue as if you had not heard this story before.

  
“My powers weren’t strong enough then,” she continued and looked down at the dirty smudges on her hands, “And then the world sort of ended and now there is no distinction anymore.”

  
“Everyone can see us now,” you agreed and slowly got up on your knees, “Fucking great.”

  
Michiru didn’t correct you this time.

  
“Yeah,” she said and lowered her voice a little as if she was about to do something illegal, “Fucking great.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So?” Ggio asked and leaned forward as if he couldn’t await your next words, “Tell me. What happened back then?”

  
“I have no idea what you mean.”

  
“Oh, _come_ on. You were there, weren’t you? In the Soul King’s palace?”

  
The second your newest Espada had seen you and realized you were in an acceptable condition he had pulled you along into the desert.

  
“A mission,” he claimed and grinned as you rolled your eyes, “It’ll be fun. Well, maybe. You won’t know until you try.”

  
You had not remembered him being this upbeat and jovial; not from the past Espada meetings and not from before Barragan died.

  
“I heard some things about you.”

  
“What things?”

  
“That you were sweet on that one shinigami,” Ggio said and smirked, “That he didn’t return those feelings. Tragic love story, all sad and shit.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pantera made her way into your head very slowly; just like the first time you had to coax her back where she belonged. It was more difficult than you remembered; after all you were birds of a feather and she had not mellowed like you.

  
“It has been a while, Grimmjow,” the spirit purred as she blessed you with her presence once more.

  
“She’s even more of a diva than you,” Zangetsu had said as he first met her; his laugh was crazed and high-pitched as you reacted defensively.

  
Pantera had never really gotten along with Kurosaki or his zanpakuto; so now she seemed happy enough to grin at you.

  
“Abandoned me, huh?” she asked and put a long finger underneath your chin and lifted it up, “You like to play with fire.”

  
“Don’t think I won’t tear your limbs off just because you are part of me.”

  
“Oh, as if,” Pantera replied and grinned, “You are not strong enough for that, child.”

  
Rage seethed, burning hot and piercing.

  
“You are so soft now, Grimmjow,” she continued, “Can’t even kill two human children because you are so sentimental. Don’t you know?”

  
She laughed, leaned closer, whispered.

  
“It will be the death of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes sleeping was still difficult. There was the wasteland around you, the constant promise of rain, the sense of dread looming like the shadows in the desert around a corpse. You wouldn’t exactly call those great conditions to find rest in.

  
However, that was not unlike Hueco Mundo and you managed to spend the majority of your life there. The problem was not getting used to the surroundings once more, it was the fact that now you had something to compare it to.

  
So when the sky darkened and the day dawned you sometimes allowed yourself to indulge. A phantom touch to your hair.

  
You kept your eyes closed as your imagination ran free. Fingertips would linger on the nape of your neck, run slow and small circles before they trailed up to where your skin tingled.

  
It was easy to lean into it, into the caresses and small gestures. The hand smoothed down your hair, the palm stroking to the sides of your head. Then the fingers tussled the strands once more. The touch was warm, familiar. In your head it continued for a long time, as long as you needed it to.

  
You opened your eyes and the illusion dissolved like smoke.

  
With your hand curled in the sand all you felt the chilly desert wind in your hair.

  
Pantera crawled around in your head, reminded you how pathetic it was to dream of a human’s touch, an innocent touch.

  
_What happened?_ was what she asked, _What happened to you?_

  
“You don’t remember,” was what you answered every time, “So shut up.”

  
She was quiet for a zanpakuto, had always been less talkative than Zangetsu or others.

  
Pantera insulted you because she was confused; she was hurt because you were, because she couldn’t understand. After two days of her constant nagging you allowed her to remember- and she fell quiet as if a bomb eradicated every trace of her.

  
“Serves you right,” you told her and pressed your lips together until you felt your teeth through them, “Fucking coward.”

  
You tightened your grip on the sand and then released it. It seemed to take more effort than usual to slide your palm upwards until it covered your ear. Quiet, quiet.

  
Without the phantom touch you only just barely managed to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why the fuck do you want to know what happened so badly?” you countered as Ggio asked again.

  
Your posture was slouched and showed how uncomfortable you were; a rigid spine, clenched fist. All of that went unnoticed by your new Espada.

  
His steps were bouncy even as his hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, always walking ahead of you as if he feared nothing at all.

  
“Because it’s boring,” Ggio answered your question with unwarranted exasperation, “Up there, I mean. Nothing ever happens and I was dead for so long I don’t even know how I got here.”

  
He sounded like a petulant child and as he looked over his shoulder his grin only solidified your impression.

  
“I mean, why is everyone alive? Why are so many others dead?”

  
“Isn’t that contradictory?” you responded and smirked, “If everyone is alive, then how can others be-”

  
“Oh, we have a smartass over here,” Ggio said, “I got lucky. At least you’re not as much of a dead fish as Aaroniero.”

  
The last thing you expected was for him to launch into a rant about his fellow Espada. Then again, he had been unpredictable ever since he took you as his fracción.

  
“I mean, honestly? You wake up after some bee person stung you to death, lose your power to go into resurección and then all they have to say is _get used to it_? The management up there is horrible and that is coming from someone who worked with the King of Hueco Mundo.”

  
You listened absentmindedly and slouched even further. One of the human girls had complained about your posture before but you didn’t pay her any mind then.

  
“My spine’s not gonna fucking break like that,” you had told her and grinned lazily up at the sky, “And if it does it’ll be someone else breaking it.”

  
“And then suddenly,” Ggio said now and spun around once with his arms stretched to the sides, “This bullshit.”

  
“Do you ever shut up?” you asked loudly and lifted your eyebrows, “Even that bastard Luppi didn’t complain all fucking day.”

  
“Well, if you told me what I want to know I wouldn’t have to complain so much, now would I?”

  
Ggio shrugged and kicked at the highest part of the dune he was standing on, sent sand flying down its side.

  
“But don’t worry,” he said then and smirked, “You’ll tell me soon enough. For now, why don’t you try and see what’s up ahead, huh?”

  
As you hesitated you felt the pressure of the mark on your neck, his reiatsu urging you to continue. It was an insistent demand but not an order yet, he had not quite learned how to issue those.

  
His mission carried on for far longer than you expected. At first your path only led you into the desert, past broken structures that once looked like houses. Architecture was not anything you spent a second thought on, but these edges and trims were familiar to you.

  
As you got close on certain feet, ran your hand across the stone’s surface, you knew without doubt what lay in front of you.

  
“This is Karakura town,” you said, “Or what’s left of it.”

 

* * *

 


	14. Contraband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long and weird chapter imo. Don't really have an awful lot to say about it, just that things are confusing and the following warnings apply:  
> -thoughts of, like, existential despair  
> -bloood  
> -thoughts of self-mutilation  
> -me being confused  
> -something along the lines of humiliation
> 
> hope I caught everything! ( I won't give a separate warning for the leeches every chapter but they are there and they are mean)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What if I told you where Ichigo Kurosaki is?” Ggio asked, “Would you tell me then?”

  
“If you had that sort of information you would bribe someone else.”

  
“Not necessarily. Not if I wanted to know what happened, right?”

  
It was an endless loop of a discussion and you were getting tired of it. The weather was changing already, the rain should soon begin. With a storm in the air everything felt tenser than before.

  
“You’re annoying as fuck,” you said and sighed, “Fine. Guess it’s only a secret to you assholes up there.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Oh, Grimmjow. What a pleasant surprise.”_

  
_You were not pleased. What you were was angry. One bastard away from the throne._

  
_“Now, now, why would you scowl like that? It has been a while, after all.”_

  
_Inside you were seething, a black endless mass of rage that was pressed so tightly to your ribcage that breathing was impossible._

  
_“You look a little agitated, Grimmjow? Are you not feeling well? Or are you so excited to see me again that you are at a loss for words?”_

  
_It was an ugly thing, that concept of destruction etched into the space between flesh and blood. Hueco Mundo ground it into you. Your gums ached with how tightly you pressed your teeth together, the line of your jaw so tense it was ready to break._

  
_“Quite the opportunist, aren’t you? Selling yourself to everyone who gives you safety. Or maybe there is something else ensuring your loyalty now?”_

  
_You spat out a reply, something rude and twisted. It felt good. Satisfying._

  
_What you earned was a smile. Well done, Grimmjow. What a good, obedient dog._

 

* * *

 

 

“The shinigami went against the Quincy and lost. That’s the gist of it.”

  
“Yeah, but you were there. Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

  
Like a kid, like someone desperate to be told a story that was better than the one he lived in. Pathetic, as well.

  
“I joined them when they got to the Soul King’s palace because Hueco Mundo was going to shit. There wasn’t that much of a choice back then, what with all the Quincy bastards trying to kill everyone who was left around Las Noches.”

  
“Why would they do that?”

  
“Have you ever talked to those assholes? They all hate Hollows, they think we’re scum and need to be cleansed or some shit. I didn’t stop to ask while I was trying to decapitate them.”

  
Ggio tapped a finger against his chin.

  
“So you went in there with the shinigami. What then?”

  
“Killed a couple Quincy. Walked into the odd trap. Killed the ones responsible for the trap. Pretty straightforward stuff.”

  
“So what happened? Did you get to their leader?”

  
You shrugged and kept walking, his eyes on you, his questions heavy with a meaning he didn’t understand.

  
“We made it to Yhwach,” you told Ggio and rubbed your injured shoulder, “But that’s as far as we got. He fucked us up without even trying. And that’s that. One way ticket to the wasteland.”

  
He caught up to you and moved in your path so you could not just leave him behind.

  
“There must be more to this,” he said and for the first time you could see his anger again, “You’re lying. That isn’t how it went.”

  
“It is.”

  
The tip of his zanpakuto rested against your sternum within a second. Its blade was short and you could see dried blood on the yellow hilt.

  
“Come on then, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,” Ggio said and smirked, “This is what you wanted right? You’ve been itching for a fight with that defiant behavior. So come on. Fight me.”

  
Pantera fell into your hand with the familiarity on an old friend greeting you. No hesitation, no seconds wasted. If what he needed was a fight to the death then you would not spare him any mercy.

  
“Oh, so you can use both hands,” Ggio commented, “Interesting. I remember last time you favoured the right.”

  
“Sorry,” you said and bared your teeth, “That might be a little difficult right now.”

  
His first strike came from above and you parried it without any difficulty. You were meant to.

  
“Funny how our roles are reversed now, huh?” Ggio laughed and swiped at your legs, wrenched his blade upwards as you jumped, “An Espada and a fracción. Ironic.”

  
Back then his blade had never pierced your skin. Now it caught your wrist and left a needle-thin trail of blood.

  
Pantera bit into his shoulder as you slammed down into him, drew droplets of red from his skin too. You rolled to the side immediately to avoid a counter attack. The sand was cold beneath your fingertips as you supported your fall with the side of your hand.

  
Tigre Estoque missed your head by an inch, slashed past your ear in an uppercut that caused the soundwaves to ring right through your head.

  
With that Ggio was wide open and you thrust Pantera forward, into the flesh of his gut. The steel dug deep and viciously, exited the body on the other side and let the red drops fall on its stained blade.

  
“You’re fast,” Ggio commented and coughed, “That’s good. You’re still better at this than most others I fought. Not on an Espada level anymore, but nothing to scoff at.”

  
He was surprisingly calm for someone who had just been impaled by a sword. It was no mystery, no punchline you didn’t get. Of course this fight was not for you to win or turn around.

  
Ggio reached out and curled his fingers behind your ear, his palm flat against the side of your face.

  
“Have you seen yourself in a while?” he asked and suddenly his grip tightened, “Guess not.”

  
You jerked backwards, ripping Pantera out of her prey with you. Touch was not for you, not unannounced, not as familiar as he made it.

  
Ggio gasped and staggered as the wound in his gut was ruptured again. Blood ran through the spaces between his slim fingers as he pressed a hand against his stomach.

  
The sand was cold to the touch. In every grain you felt the pulse of reiatsu, the sudden change of atmosphere.

  
“Bite off,” Ggio said and grinned through blood-stained teeth, “Tigre Estoque.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So what you told him was a lie?” Ryo asked and frowned, “You didn’t really lose to Yhwach that day, did you?”

  
“Nah,” you admitted and leaned back down into the sand, “That came later.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Kurosaki was painfully gentle with you. It showed in everything he did; and at first you hated it, took it as an insult how his lips curled into easy smiles when he saw you._

  
_After the war ended so should have your alliance, that was the plan, that was what kept you going. In the end it came as a surprise that you made it out alive at all; with new scars littering your body, but alive nonetheless._

  
_But something had changed in that time you spent with their strange rag-tag group._

  
_Yhwach plummeted from the sky into the Soul Society like a stone dropped into a body of water. On the way down it seemed like his very essence began to disintegrate. He shattered, scattered, vanished._

  
_You watched as he fell and only as you saw the last of his shadow fade did you allow yourself to exhale the shaky breath you had held in for so long. Relief did not seem strong enough to describe what you felt; it was as if the sky cleared after a long period of darkness, as if it rained for the first time in forever. An imagery you had only slowly reclaimed outside of Hueco Mundo._

  
_“I can’t believe it’s over,” you heard Rukia say by your side and her voice was brimming with joy, but also exhaustion. It was only dawn, the first light of Soul Society’s sun barely illuminated half of her face as you looked up. One hand clutched close to her chest, her right eye swollen shut. You knew that you could not look any better._

  
_But the ache in your dislocated shoulder and the stinging sensation of the cut across your throat meant nothing; because the Quincy king fell and the war was over._

  
_You grinned up at the sky where the lone figure of the victor waited, perfectly still and overwhelming._

  
_“He actually did it,” Rukia said and you could tell that the emotions she experienced surged strong enough to make her skin vibrate._

  
_“Looks like it,” you said and never took your eyes off of Kurosaki, standing so high above all of you. You wondered if this was what it had been like with Aizen; but you instinctively knew it wasn’t. This was more desperate, more complex than the agenda of just one person alone. An empire, crumbling, after a thousand years of waiting._

  
_“Are you coming?” Rukia asked you and for the first time she smiled at you, if only a little, if only through a tiny twitch in her lips._

  
_You climbed to your feet with some difficulty, brushed off all the dirt._

  
_“Don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” you grumbled and tried in vain to suppress the happiness that was there despite everything, worming its way outside of your heart._

  
_So you limped your way down to the empty Quincy streets that suddenly were not so empty anymore; wherever you looked there were shinigami in different states of recovery, the odd human here and there._

  
_You were still a stranger between them, the odd one out, but for a second that was not as evident. There were many faces you recognized, others that only seemed vaguely familiar._

  
_And as Kurosaki eventually joined them down on the ground they all flocked around him, some grudging, but all of them enthusiastic. It could have been worse had he not acted as quickly as he had, you all could have been dead by now._

  
_And still you didn’t know how to speak to him, were jealous of those who expressed what they felt so easily. He was right there, laughing and joking and being alive with his friends._

  
_So you stood at the side, scowling like you always did, waiting for the dawn to come so you could make your way back to Hueco Mundo. Your skin was too small for you, your throat too dry. Words seemed harsher than claws right now._

  
_You waited a few moments longer, took in how his comrades hugged Kurosaki and playfully punched his side. Watched how Nel joined them and talked to a shinigami she saved like they were old friends._

  
_All off a sudden you were not privy to their world anymore. A war won, a truce growing fragile._

  
_Kurosaki laughed and you turned on your heel. Away, away._

  
_“You’re not staying, then?” someone asked you as you made your way to the end of the street, to a plaza not so filled with celebration._

  
_Looking up you saw it was Abarai, supporting his captain as they staggered down the road. Neither seemed too keen on getting help, stubborn to the end. It wasn’t like you couldn’t relate._

  
_You sneered and stalked past them, buried your hands in your pockets._

  
_“I’ll send ‘em a fucking card,” was all you answered. As you ripped a hole into the world you suddenly felt the pain in your right temple, the throbbing in your shoulder, the weight on your spine._

  
_You bit your tongue, straightened your back, kept walking._

 

* * *

 

 

“Yeah I lied to Ggio,” you said, “Even after he went into resurrección and healed up. I told him some shit so he’d be quiet.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Ggio’s sword pressed against your neck, but he applied no pressure. A faint touch, a razor dangling right over the vein sleeping underneath soft skin._

  
_“I challenged Kurosaki after that,” you told him as he asked, not scared, just fed up, “And I lost. Once, twice, a thousand times. Doesn’t fucking matter.”_

  
_“Oh,” Ggio gasped and then repeated it, “Oh. I see. So you are embarrassed, huh?”_

  
_You sneered and looked away, into the sand, into the desert._

  
_It was enough of an answer to satisfy him._

 

* * *

 

 

“You shouldn’t lie, you know,” Michiru scolded you and shook her head, “But I am glad you did.”

  
”So you didn’t challenge Ichigo?” Ryo asked, “Even after you won the war and you could have?”

  
You just shrugged and closed your eyes.

  
“Maybe I did,” you said after a while as you felt their stares still on you, “Maybe I didn’t. Fact is, I am here and alive and he isn’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pantera enveloped your thoughts with spiteful amusement.

  
“Do you avoid looking at the ground because you fear it might stare back at you?”

  
“Fuck off.”

  
“How could you not realize it was Starrk’s? You left him, you abandoned him. Not the other way around.”

  
“I said, fuck off.”

  
“But that is exactly what you can’t accept, isn’t it? That you might be the one to blame?”

 

* * *

 

 

“We want answers,” Apacchi said and held onto the edge of your collar.

  
“Everyone’s coming to me these days,” you muttered an turned your head to the side, “Who made me the fucking first choice to ask?”

  
Her weapon came at you from out of nowhere and you only just managed to dodge it with a sidestep. It whirred past your head and returned to her hand, moving in a circular trajectory.

  
“Don’t play stupid!” Apacchi howled. Her movements were harsh and choppy but dangerous nonetheless; she ripped her weapons out of the air and spun them back at you without delay.

  
“You didn’t even ask your fucking questions!” you yelled back at her while you jumped over Cierva. You had seen its edges bite into flesh and were not too interested in finding out for yourself what that felt like.

  
You shoved Pantera through her weapon and used its momentum to spin and launch it back at her. Sand whirled around your feet as you followed its course.

  
Apacchi was surprised, you saw it in every line of her body as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar movement of her weapon. You dashed and made use of her confusion, ready to hack away at her if you had to. And you always had to. Survival was key.

  
Pantera was stopped by a blade twice her size, a broadsword.

  
You made the connection almost as fast as your body reacted; your arm recoiled like a snake after a lethal strike, a hand too close to the fire.

  
Sonido carried you a few steps backwards, out of their reach and further up a dune.

  
Mila Rose stared you down with determination and the fiercest of wills. No matter how much the Tres Bestias bickered, they kept their own safe.

  
“Oh, now you suddenly retreat? Don’t you want to kill her now, after you took her voice?” Apacchi hissed and pointed at you, “You’re a coward, Grimmjow! Running from a fair fight when you had no problem mutilating her when she was down!”

  
The accusation stung more than you thought; running was a weakness, what gave them the right to assume-

  
_“I know you’re not good with words. Me neither, to be honest. But sometimes it matters if you try.”_

  
“There’s only one person in the entire fucking world who can fix this shit,” you spat and you could feel the fury in every inch of your body, “Like hell am I dying before I see that happen.”

  
“Kurosaki?” Apacchi mocked, “There is nothing he could do even if he wasn’t dead.”

  
“The Soul King,” you corrected her and lowered your eyes, “Only the one who got us into this mess can reverse the process, right?”

  
“And how would you get him to do that?”

  
Sung-Sun never stopped looking bored even as she made fun of you. Of course she would not let her two companions confront you alone.

  
“Yeah, what would you do, Grimmjow? Ask him nicely?” Apacchi laughed, “Gonna be all clever and eloquent all off a sudden?”

  
You glowered and almost jumped at her throat first chance you got. But even if your claws itched to remove the threat she posed and shut her up, you knew there was something else to do here.

  
_“I used to be just like you, trying to get everything done by myself. But sometimes that doesn’t cut it.”_

  
“I didn’t silence Mila Rose,” you said and watched as their amusement faded.

  
“Don’t fuck with me. Who else would have done that?”

  
“Fuck do I know,” you growled, “Ya really think I would lie about this? That whole trial up there was a fucking joke, with or without her I would have gotten out of there unscathed.”

  
“What are you talking about?”

  
You rolled your eyes.

  
“I killed Luppi,” you said, “It wasn’t in self-defense, I went there specifically to murder him. They knew exactly I did it, the fucking Soul King is monitoring every last of my moves. Luppi’s too. So there’d be no reason to cut out Mila Rose’s tongue if there’s no way to hide it in the first place.”

  
“ _Monitoring you?_ ” Sung-Sun repeated.

  
“What do you think the eyes on my fucking arm are for? They’re not just some fucked-up decoration.”

  
Apacchi leaned closer, met your eyes as if asking for permission and then examined your wound. The leeches moved and twitched under her stare.

  
“Damn,” she said and waved her two companions to come closer, “This looks fucking nasty. Why didn’t you get rid of them?”

  
“I can’t,” you said, “I won’t get the right angle and cut off too much if I do it myself.”

  
“Do you need some assistance, then?”

  
Sung-Sun’s offer surprised you more than you wanted to let them know.

  
“Nah,” you said and only then realized how tired you were, how much just a little use of reiatsu drained you, “They’d notice right away.”

  
You winced as the leeches forced their swollen bodies around once more, breaking the skin with their bulbous heads and bulging eyes.

  
“So what you’re saying is someone went and and cut off this idiot’s tongue to protect you?” Sung-Sun asked and smiled at Mila Rose as she glared at her.

  
“Someone who didn’t know about this shit,” you said and gestured at your arm, “I wouldn’t risk getting on Harribel’s bad side just for some reputation bonus.”

  
Sung-Sun and Mila Rose traded looks. Apacchi just frowned and avoided your eyes.

  
“I’ll accept a written apology,” you drawled and grinned at them. The short moment of respect was gone in an instant and you could feel their glares on you, tangible and intense in their disapproval.

  
You laughed them off and turned to leave.

  
“I’m guessing that was all you wanted? If so, I’m gonna return to more important business-”

  
“Wait just a second, Grimmjow,” Sung-Sun stopped you.

  
As you looked over your shoulder you could clearly see they had their hands on their weapons again, ready to strike you down for the lack of or the wrong answer. Hollows to the core. It warmed your heart.

  
“You might not have cut Mila Rose’s tongue,” Apacchi began and didn’t sound convinced still, “But you did help those prisoners escape. You will have to answer for that.”

  
“Well, I am sure if that is the case, the Soul King will judge me like he sees fit,” you replied and laughed hysterically, “Until he does I’ll walk free.”

  
The fingers of your left hand felt stiff and cold as you gestured towards the useless stump of your right arm again.

  
“Always watching, ya know. So if some prisoners had escaped because of me, wouldn’t I be dead by now?”

  
They were seething with rage and it only made you laugh harder. The sand beneath the tips of your toes still bore the imprint of a cruel watch for you. Sometimes, people told you, sometimes things just hurt. Sometimes life and death were not fair or evenly distributed. Sometimes you were so upset only laughter fixed it.

  
“You’re so pathetic,” Apacchi said and shook her head, “You just don’t realize when to stop.”

 

* * *

 

 

The water’s surface sloshed closed again as you dropped beneath it, dove down below where the sky was not quite right and the rain still did not fall.

  
Down here it was quiet, it was dark, it was the closest to death you allowed yourself to get. There was a promise you had to keep; and there were miles to go even now, miles upon miles before you could fall asleep.

  
You gasped as you resurfaced again, the murky water running down your body and face as if it intended to drag you under again. Its pull was tempting, but nothing was stronger than your will to survive. They didn’t know, the humans and the Quincy of the wasteland, they couldn’t know what it felt like to truly strive for nothing but survival.

  
You looked down on your reflection for the first time since Luppi brutalized your head. With the sting in your eyes obscuring the water there was not much to see and yet it was enough for you to feel dizzy again.

  
The side of your head that he had torn to shreds was scarred over now, a rough patch of skin that reached from below your ear to about the height of your temple. As you reached up and stroked your fingers across crusted blood flaked into the water.  
A wave of nausea overcame you but it passed quickly. Survival. Anything beyond that was a pipe dream anyway.

  
You shivered in the cold and the water seemed icier than ever before. With the full use of your reiatsu temperatures had never been a problem, now it was a constant inconvenience. Too hot, too cold. Never a medium.

  
The leeches moved again and you felt the overwhelming urge to rip out the stump of your arm and all of them with it. It would only hurt for a while until the bleeding stopped; the raw flesh and bone hanging off in strips so you could tear off what stood over the edges.

  
Your head spun and you had to reach out and grip the muddy sides of the hole to steady yourself. Squishy, moist between your fingers. Just like the flesh would be if you ripped it out in bulks.

  
The leeches moved and you retched, doubled-over, clutched your chest until you were half submerged in the water and it didn’t matter where the sky was; you couldn’t see it anyway.

  
Your throat ached and spasmed around nothing; you had no stomach, no acid to vomit, no flesh to regurgitate. All it did was hurt and sting and you felt tears at the corners of your eyes. A reflex. It felt so human; the place where your stomach should be turned.

 

* * *

 

 

You found the two girls injured and panicking, huddled together under a tarp like they did the first time they saw you.

  
“Where were you?” Ryo asked and she sounded desperate.

  
“What happened?”

  
Your voice was rough and she picked up on it fast; because you had spent so much time together it was impossible not to notice a change in behavior.

  
“There was a shinigami who wanted to have some of the food we found,” Michiru muttered and one of her small hands was pressed against the gash in her side, “But when we shared some of it others came.”

  
“We weren’t fast enough,” Ryo continued and sounded like she was about to cry, “There were so many and so we ran but they were armed and-”

  
“Calm the fuck down,” you growled.

  
What really silenced her was the sound of you hitting the sand, falling like a stone only to crash on your side.

  
“Shit,” you said and crawled underneath their makeshift tent, still large enough to give all three of you some pace.

  
“Are you injured too?”

  
“Nah, ‘m fine,” you muttered and rested your head on the ground for just a second. With your eyes closed and your limbs rested it almost felt like you weren’t falling apart.

  
The smell of blood was strong and you saw it drip down from the small girl’s skin.

  
“You gotta bandage that,” you said, “Or this’ll get ugly really bad.”

  
“Why?” Ryo asked and her voice hitched.

  
There was a grin spreading across your face before you could help it, but she could see it was not created by amusement.

  
“You ever heard of sharks?” you asked and nodded as she flinched, “Thought so. The smell of blood attracts them. Hollows are similar.”

  
They didn’t move away from you at all and you wondered if they had already forgotten what you were.

  
“I don’t know how,” Ryo blurted out and you saw she was crying now, her sister clutched close to her as if that could keep her safe, “I don’t remember. I’ve done this a million times but I don’t remember now, it’s all gone, I-”

  
“Find some cloth. Rip it to shreds. Find something to apply pressure with and then wrap it around the wound,” you said and your head spun again, your thoughts scrambled and scattered, “It’s not that difficult.”

  
You heard the ripping of fabric and by the location of the sound you could guess she was using part of the tarp.

  
“She’s so weak already,” Ryo sobbed and looked at you where you squirmed on the sand, “She won’t make it like this.”

  
A warm memory. A smile.

  
“Transfer your reiatsu into the bandage,” you said and reached out to place your hand for her to see, “Through your fingertips. Lessens the intensity and makes it easier for it to be focused on the wound, not her entire body.”

  
“What if I don’t have enough?” Ryo asked, “What if I can’t focus and-”

  
You took the cloth from her hand and let the reiatsu stream into the fabric, slowly and carefully.

  
“Gotta do everything myself,” you muttered as you dropped your arm to the sand again, “You better be fucking grateful or I-”

  
The world turned. There were stars now.

  
Ryo called out to you, but your conscience faded fast.

  
“Fuck all of this,” you slurred and laughed again, “Just fuck it.”

 

 

* * *

 


	15. 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> picking up the pace with this one tbh, a lot of new developments!
> 
> warning for, uh, actual plot?? I guess

* * *

 

 

_In the Soul King’s palace there was a fight where there was fire, scorching, devouring everything in its way._

  
_It ended and when it did you left it behind._

  
_Kurosaki followed you even as you walked away from their group, found shelter in the remnants of a high building. His steps echoed on the stairs as he climbed up to the floor you were on._

  
_“High places, huh?” he asked as soon as he reached his destination, “Very cat-like.”_

  
_You growled out a rude reply and he laughed it off just as quick._

  
_Kurosaki leaned against one of the pillars and grinned at you; you didn’t have to look at him to know._

  
_Up here it was easy to keep watch over the Quincy city, rows of buildings after buildings that were barely more than abstract shapes in the dark._

  
_“Shouldn’t you be down there?” you asked after a period of silence, “Celebrating or something?”_

  
_Kurosaki shrugged, you could tell by the sound of his clothes ruffling and the shift in his reiatsu. Every presence felt different to you and his was no exception. Some tasted like the smell of fire, others were like raindrops hitting a calm lake. You observed them while you fought, focused on them when your head was clear and your senses sharp._

  
_Kurosaki’s reiatsu was familiar, vibrant, overpowering._

  
_You avoided thinking about it for too long._

  
_“I don’t feel like celebrating,” he said and walked past you to the edge of the building, always a good distance away._

  
_You hid your surprise. Hearing him speak quietly reminded you too much of another encounter you had._

  
Just stop already.

  
_“Did ya finally realize all that cheery bullshit isn’t gonna help?” you asked and propped up your head with your palm._

  
_Kurosaki glanced at you and you could not read his expression. Disapproving, maybe? No, the line of his brow was too relaxed for that._

  
_“Nah,” he said finally, “I told you, I like to be alone sometimes.”_

  
_“You’re not alone,” you answered and your throat was weirdly dry._

  
_Kurosaki laughed._

  
_“Oh really? I thought it was the emptiness of the void insulting me. Never guessed there was a person around.”_

  
_He had freckles, you realized once again, light dots dusting the bridge of his nose after spending some time in the sun. You watched the skin around his eyes crinkle, the shift in his reiatsu as amusement overtook him._

  
_“So why’re you coming up here?” you asked, “What’s this about?”_

  
_“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”_

  
_His reply caught you off guard and he must have seen it; your spine went rigid and your eyes wide, fingernails pressed tightly into your palm._

 

_“Uh, you know, that came out wrong,” Kurosaki said and laughed awkwardly as he scratched his head. His ears burned bright red._

  
_“It did,” you agreed, “Keep it together, Kurosaki.”_

  
_You were confused. He had never reacted like this. You shifted, blinked, tried to make sense of his embarrassment and the implication it was born from._

  
_“I was looking for you, is what I’m saying,” he explained, “Because you just ran off after that fight when no one was paying attention.”_

  
_“Worried I was gonna fuck up again?” you snapped immediately, “Think I’m gonna get myself killed?”_

  
_What you expected was an exasperated sigh, an eyeroll, anything to indicate that your anger on repeat bored him._

  
_Kurosaki smirked at you, the arrogant little shit. Within an instant you felt ready to kill, ready to jump and claw out his eyes, ready to-_

  
_You lacked the rage to realize your thoughts. Confusion was the most prominent emotion for you now; you were trying to make sense of him and your old mannerisms could not help you._

  
_“Y’know,” Kurosaki began and took a step closer, then another, until he stood right in front of you, “For someone who is injured you are pretty arrogant.”_

  
_Your ears pressed flat against your head._

  
_“You fucking-”_

  
_“You haven’t shifted back to your human form yet,” he interrupted you, “And you are limping, don’t think I haven’t seen it.”_

  
_The pain in your palms made you realized just how tightly you curled your fingers. Your claws were sharp and your flesh soft where you wanted it to be._

  
_“None of your fucking business,” you said and jumped from the small ledge you had occupied, “Just leave me the fuck alone and-”_

  
_You realized your mistake as your feet touched the ground. Sitting down had made it easy to ignore the pain, but now it was back with a blinding intensity. Before you knew it you were stumbling, falling, failing._

  
_As you kneeled on the dirty floor the mortification gripped your heart so tightly that you could barely breathe._

  
_Kurosaki was watching, probably, with those horrible eyes of his, watching closely as you were weak again, weaker than ever, even though you were not, could not be-_

  
_“They burned your legs, huh?” he asked._

  
_Just a question._

  
_You looked over your shoulder and saw how he squatted down on the ground. Eye-level. Equal. You hated how he knew exactly what to do._

  
_“Yeah,” you admitted, “Wasn’t fucking fast enough.”_

  
_“No,” Kurosaki said and shook his head, “You waited.”_

  
_You looked away, crawled to the side, turned your back on him._

  
_“Just go the fuck away before I hurt you,” you muttered, “Wouldn’t want your precious friends to worry.”_

  
_“Let me take a look.”_

  
_Kurosaki ignored your protests entirely as if he knew they were half-hearted. He was right; you had waited a few seconds too long for one of his stupid friends to get out and paid the price for it. What was nothing but a momentary lapse to you was something he would misinterpret as kindness. The thought made you sick until you shivered._

  
_He didn’t move as you stayed quiet, as if not giving him permission mattered._

  
_“You know,” he said after a while, “When this is all over, I want to study to become a doctor.”_

  
_You didn’t look at him, didn’t comment on it, so he kept going._

  
_“I mean, my dad has a clinic anyway so I have been helping out there for a while. I mean, outside of the shinigami business. It was more fun than I thought, guess it’s the same basic concept of wanting to protect people.”_

  
_“Why are you telling me that?”_

  
_“Because I am pretty sure you didn’t know, dumbass,” Kurosaki laughed, “Isn’t like we had an awful lot of time to talk before.”_

  
_The thought that he had an interest in sharing this information, any information with you, still struck you as strange. Then again, you should have become used to his antics by now._

  
_“You think opening up to me will make me allow you to examine my wounds, huh?” you asked and grinned up at the sky. No ceiling in this building, destroyed by a battle you barely won._

  
_“You got me,” Kurosaki said and smirked, “Did it work? Or do I have to break out the embarrassing stories of me as a kid?”_

  
_You huffed out a laugh. It had passed so quickly, that endless mortified shock. Your moods were volatile and you had no idea how to deal with someone who accepted them as such._

  
_“Knock yourself out,” you said and surprised yourself, “Isn’t like I could stop you.”_

  
_“Pretty sure you could,” he replied._

  
_His fingers circled your ankle and you flinched, moved backwards and away. The instinct to rip him apart for touching you was still there and still strong._

  
_“Does it hurt when touched?” Kurosaki asked and stroked over the burned flesh as he examined your paw._

  
_You stared at him with what you thought had to be complete and utter shock but he did not meet your eyes at all. His fingers moved over your skin with practiced ease, lifted your leg to touch your calf, searched for the worst of the wounds ceaselessly. It was almost too much to bear._

  
_“It seems your, uh, feet were damaged the most,” Kurosaki said and rubbed his neck, “Well, your paws. They’re very small and fluffy.”_

  
_“Yeah,” you rasped and cleared your throat, “Paws. Don’t make another fucking cat joke or I’ll take off your head.”_

  
_He laughed out loud even as he reached to his pockets and pulled out something that looked like bandages._

  
_“The fuck are those gonna do?” you asked, “You wanna wrap your head in them so I don’t have to look at you anymore?”_

  
_“Oy,” Kurosaki protested, “I know that the actual wound will heal by itself, just let me do this, okay?”_

  
_You should have been suspicious of him and his conveniently placed bandage. After all he could have used it to poison you._

  
_“Okay,” you said and grinned, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, do ya?”_

  
_“Oy.”_

  
_“You’re just sitting there trying to be a fucking hero with your stupid weird medicine shit and-”_

  
_“What the hell are you even talking about?” Kurosaki asked but he was laughing again and you stared long enough to see his eyelashes brush against his skin._

  
_Then suddenly the pain in your legs dissipated and you flinched; as if the absence of it was what truly hurt you._

  
_“What the hell-” you began and finally diverted your attention back to how Kurosaki was now applying bandages to your injured paws._

  
_“Surprised?” he asked and finished up his work, “Bet you wonder what I did, huh?”_

  
_“That’s your reiatsu,” you stated and reached down to press a finger against the white fabric, “Clever.”_

  
_It was his turn to be surprised but before he could voice his confusion you continued._

  
_“So you transferred it into the damn bandage to lessen its intensity, eh?”_

  
_He shifted._

  
_“What do you mean?”_

  
_“Well, you’re shit at controlling it, aren’t you?” you asked, “If you had shoved it straight into me I would have exploded or something.”_

  
_Kurosaki blinked and looked at you with wide eyes. Maybe he was not used to the way you spoke to him with his adoring fanclub surrounding him every other time. Not that you cared what he thought of your mannerisms._

  
_“You-” he started and cleared his throat, “That sounded kinda weird, but yeah. I guess. How do you even know about that?”_

  
_“Are you serious? How could I not know, I fought you,” you growled and scooted farther away from him, “Don’t tell me you forgot.”_

  
_“Uh, no. I didn’t.”_

  
_He fidgeted and then finally sat down, drawing his knees to his chest._

  
_“Guess I just didn’t think you’d pay attention to that sort of thing,” he added._

  
_“What did you think I was doing, judging your fashion choices?”_

  
_Kurosaki burst out laughing again as you scowled through your sentence._

  
_“Man, you’re something else,” he told you and snorted, “I forgot you are a sarcastic prick.”_

  
_“Shut it.”_

  
_“Yeah, sure,” Kurosaki waved you off. He jumped to his feet effortlessly and brushed off his clothes._

  
_“I did what I came here for,” he told you and ignored your frown, “So, yeah, gonna leave you to brood.”_

  
_“Whatever.”_

  
_Kurosaki shook his head._

  
_“So grumpy. Would have thought this would be exactly your thing, you know.”_

  
_“Teaming up with a bunch of ignorant dipshits isn’t_ my thing _.”_

  
_“Not that. The fighting and all,” Kurosaki said and looked at you again, his head cocked and the smile you had seen before flickering alive._

  
_You couldn’t stand to look at him and frowned, averted your eyes, avoided his._

  
_“Fuck off.”_

  
_“Well, glad to have you around, too.”_

  
_He left still laughing and suddenly the world was quiet again. Even after a while you could hear his footsteps. Slow, taking his time._

  
_It was his reiatsu that faded last and you sneered as it did._

  
_Like all others his had a distinctive quality, rang clear like the chime of a bell._

  
_You reached up with your right hand and pulled your body up. Shifting your weight onto your feet was a precarious procedure, you were overly cautious in order not to fall once more._

  
_Kurosaki’s reiatsu felt like you imagined an ocean to be._

  
_“Well, fuck me,” you muttered and gingerly walked to where you had sat before, high above their merry crowd, “All better, huh?”_

 

* * *

 

 

In the wasteland, someone spoke to you from within the walls of Las Noches as you passed them by.

  
“Don’t let them know you are talking to someone,” they said quietly and you froze for a split second before your instincts revealed a solution.

  
You grunted and sunk down on one knee, clutching your shoulder. Looking up you drew a shaky breath and then lowered yourself to the ground as if the pain overtook your senses. To everyone outside it looked like you chose a second of respite.

  
“Riveting performance.”

  
“I do try,” you said dryly and took great care not to move your mouth too much. It wasn’t like they were not used to hearing you speak through gritted teeth.

  
“I suppose a thank you is in order,” Urahara said.

  
“I’m surprised you trusted me enough to go through with it,” you answered immediately and sneered, “Changed your mind about me?”

  
It was difficult to keep the indignation out your voice and you didn’t have to see his reaction to know what it was like. However, you also knew that after all this time he knew that your state of mind was a fickle thing.

  
“We already suspected that _it’s in the blood_ , as you said,” Yoruichi said and you closed your eyes listening to their voices, pretended to rest for just another short while. The sand was soft enough to calm you.

  
“So you really did drain as much as you could, huh?” you asked, “That’s how the prisons work, I guess. Makes a huge mess.”

  
“But it worked. So thanks, Blue.”

  
Yoruichi called you that to annoy you, but it was not the first time you heard the nickname. Your resistance to her antics had grown just like her immunity to your insults had.

  
“So what about Hirako?” you asked and lazily opened an eye, faked looking at your shoulder to uphold the pretense for anyone who might have been watching.

  
“Aw, are you worried about me, Blue?”

  
The third voice, easily distinguishable and enough to lift your mood a little.

  
“Can’t have my partners in crime dying on me, now can I?” you mocked him, “Should have figured none of you assholes would get killed like that.”

  
Even now you didn’t look down at the ground as if there really were eyes watching your steps to judge your worth.

  
“Where are you now?” you asked and glanced over your shoulder, trailed your gaze up Las Noches’ walls and into the sky.

  
“Inside,” Urahara answered simply, “We made it deeper inside. Right now I am using a hell butterfly to communicate, one of the last out here.”

  
“It isn’t very wise to give away our position, even if the Soul King is deaf out there.”

  
Yoruichi sounded more serious now, deep in thought. From personal experience you knew exactly how they developed their plans and how well they functioned as a team.

  
“Are you holding up okay?” Hirako asked instead.

  
“Don’t make me laugh. I’m fucking fine.”

  
“We’ll do what we can do get you in here, Blue.”

  
That was a convenient lie; but you didn’t mind so much. The sentiment was appreciated just as well.

  
“I’ll stay right where I am now,” you growled, “There’s something out here I have to do.”

  
A short silence and once again you were made aware just how far away from them you were now. They were safer, closer to the core. There was no other way to go. No one who ventured out ever returned.

  
“You’re not searching for Ichigo, are you?” Yoruichi asked and her voice betrayed an emotion you couldn’t fathom.

  
“No,” you answered without a hitch, “There’s nothing to search for.”

  
“You don’t know for sure-”

  
“Only the Soul King can fix this shit, right?” you interrupted her fervently, “So you go and worry about that.”

  
You weren’t sure who it was who called out to stop you as you jumped to your feet and prepared to return to the ends of the outskirts.

  
“What is it?” you asked, “Don’t you have a war to win?”

  
This time you didn’t receive an answer and you wondered if there had been kinder words you could have chosen, an easier approach to all of this.

  
Speaking your mind was still frightening; or maybe not _still_ , maybe it was frightening _again._

 

* * *

 

 

“Word in Las Noches is you found yourself some strays,” Candice informed you and twirled a rusty iron key in her hands, “Bambietta likes the one you gave her, but rumor has it yours are children.”

  
“Rumor can go fuck itself, then.”

  
“So you deny it?” she asked and laughed, “Don’t want to ruin your reputation?”

  
She circled around you, only leaned forward sometimes to take a good look at you. Under her scrutiny you felt even dirtier, even more cracked and splintered. The blood beneath your fingernails was dry and left imprints as you pressed them into your palm.

  
“What’s this really about, huh?” you asked and yawned, “Can’t imagine a Sternritter being this interested in some fracción’s business.”

  
“You underestimate how boring life is inside there,” Candice said and sighed exaggeratedly, “Boredom ruins my hair.”

  
You scowled until she started laughing.

  
“Don’t make that face,” she told you, “Doesn’t suit you. What would your shinigami friends say if they saw you like this?”

  
You couldn’t help the cold shiver that ran down your spine.

  
_“Take a deep breath, think before you speak. You can do it”_ someone told you once before you walked into a hall with ceilings higher than you could see.

  
“I have no idea what you mean.”

  
“Oh, feigning ignorance is great, you know?” Candice mused and put a finger against her chin, “But it’s not really working out for you. I realized where I saw you, you know? And it was in the third assault, right before our king crushed the human world and its savior with it.”

  
“I never said I wasn’t involved.”

  
“Oh, but you were the one who led us there, weren’t you?” she continued and smiled, “I remembered later, we could never have gotten rid of Kurosaki without you.”

  
You didn’t like how she said his name, but you kept quiet and glared, watched on grimly as she stepped around you.

  
“You worked with Nakk Le Vaar, didn’t you?” she asked, “That’s ironic.”

  
You didn’t bother to ask her why.

  
Candice had stopped you in the outskirts, quite a ways off from the makeshift streets on populated areas. In the distance, between shabby shacks and stacks of wire, you could still see people walking about.

  
“I suppose I should thank you,” the Quincy said and grinned but it didn’t look quite right, “That explains why the Soul King is so ready to forgive your failures; he owes you one, fragile Hollow or not. Was that your plan all along?”

  
“You gotta stay alive somehow.”

  
The words got stuck in your throat and you had clear it to continue.

  
“Is that all ya wanted from me?” you asked and cracked your neck as if this was just another business meeting for you, just another talk.

  
Candice stepped a little closer, squinting.

  
“You ratted out all your allies just for a favour, huh?”

  
“That seems to be the case, yeah.”

  
“Ah, you Hollows,” she said after a moment, “Spineless bastards, all of you. If that’s true, then I just have one last question for you.”

  
You waited, prepared for the worst or another joke at your expense. Survival was shutting up sometimes, just like it could be shouting at the top of your lungs on other days. Still, you felt like you were missing something, like she was testing you and expected a particular result.

  
Luppi had insulted them, the Quincy and their women, had spoken of their arrogance and stupidity. He never considered that underestimation was a good tactic to use; pretending to be weak until the enemy grew careless. One slash, two slashes. He was gone, the Quincy weren’t.

  
“What did you do for Bambi that got her all pissy and grateful?” Candice asked, “I haven’t seen her that angry since I saved her ass once.”

  
“That’s what I did too,” you said and shrugged, “Needed a favor so I got her out of a springtrap. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  
“Sounds interesting. You should share someday.”

  
“He won’t. I’ll make sure of that.”

  
Candice and you turned around to see Bambietta watching the two of you. She sat on an wooden crate with her legs crossed and her palms pressed down beside her for support.

  
“I got something to talk about with my dear, dear friend here,” Bambietta said and waved you off dismissively. Her voice wavered as she spoke about Candice.

  
You grinned at her.

  
“Tesla giving you trouble yet? Can’t handle that subservient piece of shit?”

  
”Oh, you shut up. You knew exactly what he’d be like when you told me about him.”

  
“What’s he like, _Bambi_?” Candice asked, “I mean, since you were rude enough to interrupt us and all. Spill.”

  
Bambietta rolled her eyes.

  
“He’s useful. For a Hollow,” she explained and got up, “But he’s fucking depressing, never stop sulking about his old Espada pal or something. Apparently he was there when the dude killed himself.”

  
She watched you too closely to miss the way your eyes widened. Just a fraction, just a sliver of white more.

  
“You didn’t know?” she asked, “I remember that Espada. Laughed his ass off before shooting himself in the fucking face, right in the middle of our first meeting.”

  
You didn’t feel anything; no matter how many times they joked that you had gone soft and started caring for others, that was not something you would extend to a lot of people. The select few mattered, of course, but beyond that there were only strangers.

Threats. The occasional betrayal.

  
Nnoitra and you had never gotten along.

  
You bristled, frowned, decided to leave them behind. The iron key swapped owner as they thought you were not looking.

  
“See you soon, little fracción!” Candice called after you as you walked away, “Always a pleasure!”

  
Another shiver ran through you at the thought of killing them; taking them apart slowly and meticulously until their mouths were still and silent.

  
Violent, intrusive, thought.

 

* * *

 

 

“You weren’t with the shinigami.”

  
The voice was slightly quieter than you considered appropriate and it stretched the vowels as if tasting them carefully, piece by piece.

  
It didn’t take you long to spot the Quincy even if he was trying to hide from view; a tall line of a shadow close to the walls of a decrepit shed.

  
The outskirts had not gotten any prettier since you last checked, but with time and more important things going on its filthy exteriors had rarely occupied your mind.

  
“Well,” you said and huffed out a laugh, “If you say it’s like that then who am I to claim it ain’t?”

  
He cracked a smile and uncrossed his arms, gestured you to follow him.

  
“Name’s Bazz B,” he told you and looked over his shoulder. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was waiting to read your lips.

  
“Grimmjow,” you introduced yourself as well and lifted an eyebrow, “But you knew that already.”

  
Bazz B inclined his head and grinned before he turned back around.

  
“Up there,” he said and pointed straight ahead, into the darkening sky, “Follow me.”

  
And you followed him; if only because he had been on trial too. Most of the Quincy were not too attached to the rules anymore, not after the initial feeling of supremacy passed. Being the king of a rotting community apparently wasn’t as rewarding as many had thought.

  
So you walked with him for a bit, light on your feet because there had been no missions for you in a while and your reiatsu stayed relatively high, your powers at its limit for now.

  
You noted that Bazz B was wearing the standard white uniform of the Quincy still; his hair, however, looked strange to you and you watched it with growing curiosity.

  
Before someone told you you had never thought of your own hair color as unnatural; but then you were informed it was anything but common. In the outskirts that was just as apparent. It wasn’t very difficult to tell humans and spiritual beings apart.

  
Bazz B took you through one of the less populated areas, kept turning and tugging on your sleeve to keep you going. His reiatsu felt like something static, like power sleeping beneath the earth.

  
You ducked your head under a metal bar wedged between two barracks, hastily put together without finesse.

  
At last he came to a stop, at a point close to the walls but Las Noches but not close enough to feel threatened by them. There was nothing special about this place; just another spot between burned remains of earlier rotations and the current occupation. It was a strange thought; having been here before.

  
“Is this the part where you strangle me and bury the body?” you asked and looked around curiously, “That would be fucking rude.”

  
Bazz B laughed and it didn’t sound like there was a malicious intent behind it. Who knew, though; you had been wrong before.

  
“Right here,” he said and gestured behind himself, “Just a second.”

  
And as he turned and ripped a void into the world, his own pocket dimension, you were not as surprised as you probably should have been.

  
As he waved you to come along you hesitated for the first time.

  
“What’s this about, really?” you asked and shifted, “Not too fucking excited to run straight into hell, y’know.”

  
Bazz B paused, frowned and then twirled his hand around in a small circle, just a twist of the wrist. Repeat.

  
“What do you want from me?” you rephrased, tried not to slur your speech as much as usual. Some of your allies had complained about that before; Michiru told you not to mumble on a daily basis.

  
Bazz B seemed to understand just fine; he rubbed his hands together and smirked at you.

  
“The question is ‘what do _you_ want from _me_?’” he asked and pointed at you, simulated shooting a gun, “I am just gonna give you back your arm.”

 

* * *

 


	16. what there was in a name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a bit of blood, bit of violence, bit of gore, bit of evisceration. Also, eating people. As in, people being eaten. All the nice things once again!
> 
> Thanks @ everyone who is reading this, everyone who commented, everyone who listens to me ramble on about how strange of an experience this fic is. Couldn't have made it this far without you!

 

* * *

 

 

_Kurosaki spoke of his family as if he wasn’t part of it while he was in the Soul King’s palace._

  
_“They’re damn annoying,” you heard him say, “Especially my old man. He’s a shinigami too, or used to be. Now he’s just jumping around like the damn fool he is.”_

  
_You had only just learned he was still alive, a human; you were still processing that information._

  
_Kurosaki sat close to a small fire with Nel who kept asking him questions, ceaseless and curious bordering on obsessive. You were listening too, pretending to sleep on the remains of a building nearby. It was almost entirely destroyed, but it still provided you with a slightly elevated and flat surface that had a wall to press your back against._

  
_“My sisters worry a lot,” Kurosaki continued, “Karin doesn’t show it as much, but she feels responsible really easily. She’s really into sports and will take none of your shit, really.”_

  
_“Can she see us?” Nel asked._

  
_“Yeah, her spiritual powers are growing stronger and it shouldn’t be a problem for her to see Arrancar.”_

  
_“What about the other one?”_

  
_“Yuzu?” Kurosaki asked and smiled, “So far she hasn’t been able to see any higher level spirits, but you never know. She might get around to it later.”_

  
_You stared into the dark, watched it curl and wind around you. Sleep was a luxury. You kept on listening._

  
_“So tell me about her. What is she like?”_

  
_Kurosaki huffed out a laugh and rubbed his neck._

  
_“Well, you could say she’s sweeter than Karin. Does a lot of stuff around the house and is basically too kind to handle. If you so much think about hurting her someone will have killed you before you finish that thought, probably.”_

  
_You curled the fingers of your right hand into a fist, flexed the muscles, relaxed them again. There was an ache in your neck and a coil in your gut, as if someone twisted and tied knots into your organs. You were not even sure you had those anymore; you never cut yourself open to check._

  
_“I miss them,” Kurosaki said and your fingernails bit into the surface of your palm, “Man, they’ll be pissed if it turns out I can’t return.”_

  
_Nel didn’t ask but you wanted to. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he stopped Nnoitra’s blade two years ago._

  
_So you stared into the night, listened to the stories he told and wondered once again why a human boy would go through all this to save the world. No, all of them._

  
_They didn’t know you were listening the next night, too._

 

* * *

 

 

“Good morning, Grimmjow,” the kind brown-haired girl greeted you and weakly lifted up her head.

  
“Isn’t even morning,” you muttered and dropped to the ground in front of her, shoveling some sand to the side. She studied your expression with the particular kind of curiosity that you had come to expect from her; not naive, inherently, but without ulterior motives. A strange thought.

  
“I might or might not have gotten you something to eat,” you said and pushed a box the size of your hand in her general direction.

  
“That is not human or Hollow flesh, right?”

  
“No,” you said and shrugged, “Might be Quincy, though, so-”

  
“Ew,” she said and reached out anyway. Even though she clearly had difficulty moving with the cut in her side she smiled at you.

  
However, you could tell that smile wavered as she looked at the content of the box.

  
”This is-,” she started and pressed a hand against her mouth, “Oh.”

  
It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was trying not to laugh in fear of offending you.

  
“Does it completely suck?” you asked and rested your chin on your palm, “I mean, I did beat up that old guy for it so that’d be a damn shame.”

  
She pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow.

  
“You beat up an old man for two slices of bread, a can of beans and a pack of gum?”

  
“You’re welcome,” you growled and craned your head to look into the box, “What’s gum, anyway?”

  
She rummaged through the items and you heard the sound of paper unfolding, crisp and distinct. Then she held out her hand with a strange green thing in it. It smelled like mint.

  
“Keep it,” you said and shifted uncomfortably, “Looks fucking nasty.”

  
She laughed and popped the weird object into her mouth. You tried not to look too interested in her reaction in vain.

  
“Thank you,” she said and smiled, “I really appreciate it.”

  
Her injuries were still grave even if she was trying not to let you see; and despite yourself that was something you could relate to. You had different reasons for your reluctance to keep up the pretense, though, pride and not wanting to worry others.

  
“Where’s your sister?” you asked and looked around. Today’s resting spot was a little closer to the inside of the outskirts, if only because the shadows worried them.

  
“She is gonna be back in a moment, I think she wanted to find some more cloth.”

  
You could see the blood soaking the bandages on her side, the trembling in her hands. Her skin was sickly pale and it occurred to you just how fragile she was.

  
“Are you gonna stay?” she asked, exhausted.

  
“Might as well,” you answered, “So go the fuck to sleep.”

  
She laughed before she obeyed, smiled into the sand as the bloodstain on her bandages grew larger. Like ink on paper, you thought. Someone taught you how to write.

 

* * *

 

 

You knew Ggio was approaching because his reiatsu swamped the entire part of the outskirts like a flood, relentless and unrestrained. There was no doubt he was angry, angrier than you ever saw him, probably.

  
So you got up on shaky legs and decided to face him head-on, somewhere he could not do any damage- into the desert you went.

  
One step and your pulse quickened, a second and your knees buckled. The spiritual pressure was growing stronger and you were weakened; there was no chance you would win a fight.

  
That did not stop you from raising Pantera to block Tigre Estoque’s first blow, a downward slash aimed at your head.

  
Its force sent you flying, you landed sprawled out on your back with a dull thud. It knocked the breath out of you and the edges of your vision sizzled and wavered.

  
“I’m disappointed,” Ggio said and unceremoniously sat down on your stomach, “I thought you would put up more of a fight again.”

  
A blade pressed against your throat before you could reach out and ram a hand through his chest. Everything turned and your body fell limp out of reflex. You knew this procedure. Luppi had drilled it into your skull. Play dead, pretend not to care at all.

  
“What’s up?” Ggio asked you and it caught you off guard, “Why are you making that face?”

  
You looked up and saw he had cocked his head, eyes wide and curious.

  
Tigre Estoque applied pressure to your throat, the blunt side of his blade weighing on your larynx. The steel was so cold you shivered at its touch.

  
Ggio blinked twice.

  
“You think I am going to kill you,” he said and sounded surprised, “Huh. Guess there was a reason you killed Luppi when you did, then.”

  
“He was infected and the others wanted him dead. Not a tough choice.”

  
The pressure on your throat lessened and he put his face in his hands, watched you from above.

  
“Sucks to have a shit Espada as your boss.”

  
You stayed quiet. Barragan’s fracciónes had never not treated him like the king of Hueco Mundo; bowed before him and his broken throne. Outside of Aizen’s meetings you always stayed away from them as best as you could- to you they were nuisances with no backbone.

  
“I’m not gonna punish you or something,” Ggio said, “I could, but I am fucking bored. So even if you’re a lying deserter piece of shit, that’s better than having no one around.”

  
He paused and frowned.

  
“That sounded so emotional,” he added, “Don’t think too much of it. If you were stuck with those others up there for a few years you’d start talking to rocks.”

  
“Fucking charming. Can you get the fuck off me now?”

  
Ggio tapped a finger against his chin.

  
“Not just yet,” he said and shifted, “I came here to ask you something, this isn’t just a social call.”

  
“Then what are you waiting for? Ask the damn question.”

  
Ggio nodded. As he started to grin it dawned on you that whatever he was going to say would not make you very happy.

  
“So, Grimmjow, best friend,” he started and ignored your glare, “Are you ready to go and kill my buddy old pal Aaroniero?”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time you returned the two sisters were reunited. They were both injured, something you had only learned recently. Now there was still the smell of blood in the air.

  
“You look pretty banged up,” the black-haired girl greeted you, her sister unconscious with her head on her lap.

  
“It’s a talent,” you growled and squatted down in front of them, arm hanging limply at your side.

  
“Thanks for the food,” she said, “How did you even get that? I haven’t seen bread in months.”

  
“Made it myself. Out of sand and the souls of the innocent.”

  
Her laughter was a pleasant sound, even if it was slightly tainted by the violent coughing fit that followed.

  
“I’m not infected,” she managed to say, wheezing, exhausted, “Caught a cold.”

  
“If you say so.”

  
You shrugged and settled down on your back, closer to them than you normally would have chosen to.

  
The rain was still not starting to fall; you draped your arm over your eyes and groaned. Today just imagining the sound of the droplets hitting the earth was like the screeching of a sawblade to you. Grating noises, loud and deafening.

  
“Why do you help us?”

  
The question did no come as unexpected as she probably thought; you closed your eyes and snarled to make sure she knew exactly how little you cared to answer it.

  
“I’m just that fucking friendly,” you said, yawned, continued, “Love helping out humans. ‘s just what I do, y’know.”

  
She poked your side and you snickered, completely unfazed by her disapproval.

  
“No, you wouldn’t just risk that much for some random stranger. Why are you doing all this?” she tried again, “Don’t think I didn’t realize you killed the guys who injured us. No one threatened us again after that and that doesn’t just happen on its own.”

  
You stayed quiet and let her continue, your mood growing strangely somber.

  
“And,” she continued and pressed her lips together, “Sorry, but you are a Hollow. I am not blaming you for doing all you need to to stay alive, but there is no damn way you would just risk your life for some kids out here. So, why are you really helping us?”

  
You rolled your eyes, shielded from view by your arm. The girls were breathing and even that became noise to you right now, just static around everything that transpired.

  
“I am helping you because you are Karin and Yuzu Kurosaki,” you finally said, “And I owe your brother a favor.”

 

* * *

 

 

You wondered what Kurosaki would think of you, splattered with blood and the souls of weakened creatures seeping into the flesh between your teeth. Hunched over the corpse of your last victim you felt like less than a Hollow; like an animal, like the mindless creature you had been an eternity ago.

  
The wind was gentle and it carried the scent of blood with it now, a metallic breeze that forced your eyes wide open and your mind into a state of alert. You vibrated with suppressed energy; you were glowing with the desire to run and hunt more, hunt forever, fall into a shallow grave with your claws still outstretched.

  
The carcass in front of you had no face anymore, its guts strewn across the sand and the smell of decay with it. Every vein in their body was swollen and spongy where they bulged out of the skin, stretching it paper-thin and translucent.

  
They had still been alive when you broke open their ribcage; an accident. Regenerative powers were not always a blessing, not if they kept you alive while choking on your own swollen tongue, forced you to feel your lungs collapse.

  
A cero could have saved them the pain; their life screeching to a halt in a blast wave. However, ceros would drain you too much, leave you weak enough to have to go for another hunt.

  
So you plunged your hand into their chest, broke the remaining ribs, removed the heart. Tendrils and muscles bent easily when you tugged on them with brute force; stretched and snapped the more you pulled. The heart pulsed one last time before you grabbed hold of it; its surface wet and slippery even as you threw it aside.

  
Starving yourself was not an option, not even with the taste of bile in the back of your throat. Dizziness began to spread as the soul did its work; its power became yours and the pressure behind your eyes grew unbearable before it vanished again. Even as it was done, as you were fed and sated you were exhausted, weary to the bone. No amount of sleep could cure that.

  
And as you licked the blood from your hands and your stomach churned with how pathetic you felt you wondered again:

  
What would Kurosaki think of you now?

 

* * *

 


	17. an evening in fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: maybe sad stuff??? No horrible violence in here at least
> 
> soooo next chapter is the last in part 1 so we are slowly approaching part 2 territory which is pretty cool but also scary since I talked about that so much people have ///expectations/// now can u imagine
> 
> No but in all seriousness, I am super excited to continue this and see how people will react to what is about to unfold. Hope you, reading this, are too!

* * *

 

 

_“I wanted to dream of the things I loved and never had and those I had and couldn’t keep in death,” Starrk said, “But well, things never turn out the way you want, I suppose.”_

 

* * *

 

 

You awoke because something poked the tip of your nose. It was just a tiny gesture, a touch so sweet it seemed barely worth mentioning. You frowned in your sleep as whatever it was bumped against your nose again, no less gentle but a little more insistent.

  
But you were tired; so tired, even, that when you tried to open your eyes your eyelids wouldn’t budge. They fluttered closed whenever you so much as tried to blink.

  
It was the heavy kind of sleepiness; the one that came from being out for too long. It smothered you with an intensity that felt almost oppressive, as if your body commanded you to get some more rest at all cost.

  
So you mumbled out a few curses and shielded your face from view with your arm. All you wanted was to be left alone, fall into a deeper, dreamless sleep again.

  
But there was another soft touch your temple next and it became more difficult to ignore. Sooner rather than later the sand beneath you started to feel less comfortable; as if it refused to accommodate you. As long as it gave when you lay on it you could pretend it was not sand at all.

  
The veil of drowsiness was lifting now and you groaned as the dim light from the outside world flickered across the inside of your eyelids. Colorful swirls in the darkness, the hint of reiatsu traces around you. You recognized its signature.

  
There weren’t many people you allowed this close to you without feeling wary at all; trust was not something you gave easily, not after everything that happened. But those who you hesitantly tolerated quickly learned that touch was what made you believe their words; it was a solid concept, something more than verbal reassurance.

  
“What is it?” you asked and cracked an eye open, “Espada business not keeping you busy?”

  
Nel looked down at with a mixture of concern and amusement.

  
“Your wounds are healing,” she said and stroked over the side of your head, “But what are you _doing_ , Grimmjow?”

  
You snickered and tried to lift yourself up only to realize you were too nauseous to do so.

  
“What about the reishi pills I gave you?” Nel asked and placed a hand on your back, “Why’d you run out here to kill that shinigami?”

  
As you looked around you realized what she meant; the outskirts were only visible in the distance, you had strayed far from the path to hunt your prey. The memory of how you got here was blurry.

  
“The infection is getting fucking strong,” you said and coughed in an attempt not to vomit, “I had to use them all or I couldn’t have lifted a damn finger anymore.”

  
Nel waited patiently until you calmed down a little before she reached around you. With your arm over her shoulders she heaved you up on unsteady feet.

  
“You’re gonna have to do something about this, soon,” she said and stepped away from you, “Or the infection will eat you alive.”

  
It wasn’t like you didn’t know that; but you were to dizzy to snap at her. Your anger burned quietly.

  
“The second I cut this disgusting shit off,” you began, swaying, lifting your chin up, “They’ll drag me inside to fuel the damn Soul King’s power.”

  
“And if you stay here you will waste away just like that,” Nel countered and crossed her arms before her chest, “That isn’t what Ichigo would have wanted.”

  
“Kurosaki isn’t here.”

  
“It isn’t what I want, either.”

  
You snorted and turned away. The world was still tilting sideways but you could stay upright, needed no help, were not weak anymore. Leeches inside your arm twitched and slithered through the flesh with every breath you took.

  
“I can give you a few more pills now,” Nel said and you felt that particular, helpless type of anger, “But they won’t last for very long, the others would notice if I gave you too many. I can’t afford getting found out, being in the Espada is the only advantage we have here.”

  
“And what good has that done, huh, _Nelliel_? In three years, what the fuck has being an Espada achieved?”

  
“Your stunt with Tesla would have cost you your head without me,” she told you and her tone of voice made her seem taller than she was, “Who do you think it was that convinced the rest of them you acted in the interest of the Arrancar when you made that deal with the Quincy?”

  
You were quiet, remembered something that had been on your mind for a while.

  
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” you started off, “Because fuck you for thinking that’s ever gonna work.”

  
“I want you to know that I am not living in luxury up there while you are dying with no one to turn to.”

  
“So was it you who cut out Mila Rose’s tongue?” you asked and sneered, “To _shield me from all evil_?”

  
The look she gave you was one you could feel she had reserved for Nnoitra- when she thought you were being a child with your anger and your volatile nature.

  
“I didn’t hurt her,” Nel said, “I wouldn’t hurt any of them just to create a useless alibi and you know that.”

  
In the end she was still the more reasonable and you were the petty, angry, violent Hollow scum.

  
“What I know is that you are safe up there in your fucking castle while trying to tell me all this shit is worth it,” you snapped, “Hiding behind some fucked up promise we made to Kurosaki before he was blown to pieces.”

  
Her arrogance turned to hurt so fast that it looked fake; but you knew exactly it wasn’t; she wouldn’t joke about this. The one thing she could not turn around anymore.

  
Nel walked over to you and you thought she was going to hit you; a clear strike across the face because you did not quite know where to stop. In your state there was no way to dodge or retaliate.

  
She clasped your hand in hers and dropped the reishi pills in your open palm.

  
“You can be such an asshole,” she said and didn’t avert her eyes, stared you down as if to challenge you to apologize, “But I promised Ichigo I would protect everyone I hold dear. So get over yourself.”

  
You just looked at her, couldn’t speak, no words left to say.

  
“I get you are angry, really,” Nel continued, “And you are hurt and this situation is worse on you than it is on anyone else. But I won’t let you insult me or him like this.”

  
And she left; just like that, with her head held high.

  
Words had never been your strongest suit; people thought you stupid and sometimes it didn’t feel like they were entirely wrong. But with a tongue as heavy as lead and the stump of your arm stinging at your side there was nothing you could do about it.

  
You snorted, turned away, stalked back towards the outskirts. Out here, in the desert, there was nothing else to see.

 

* * *

 

 

“I miss being warm,” you said and groaned, “Out here it’s only fucking cold all year. Even Hueco Mundo wasn’t this cold.”

  
Ryo- no, Karin- nodded vehemently.

  
“Like, I can’t even fucking feel it like you do and it’s annoying,” you continued.

  
More nodding, more enthusiastic agreement.

  
“I would kill for a shower right now,” Karin said.

  
“With really good water pressure,” Yuzu agreed and sighed, “Maybe a hot spring.”

  
And sometimes you remembered what it had been like to be hugged for a very long time until your hands stopped shaking. How surprised you had been and how much you had shivered at first. Too close, way too close.

  
That was something you would not tell them, game or not.

  
“I’m next,” Karin announced and furrowed her brow until an idea revealed itself to her, “I know, if I could have one thing from the human world it would be clean drinking water.”

  
“Fucking useless.”

  
“You don’t need to drink, you idiot,” she reprimanded you immediately, “But we have this disgusting stuff that probably has a million germs in every single sip.”

  
They had found some decent materials to light a fire and proclaimed that you had to join them around it to tell stories and ask questions you normally wouldn’t. It struck you as strange at first- but then again they were humans and nothing but unpredictable.

  
So you had found yourself underneath a wooden rack placed atop two barrels just outside the desert. Even with the reishi pills still working you were tired and they had given you a damp blanket quickly, ‘in case you wanted to fall asleep’.

  
“I have a question for you,” Yuzu said and smiled at you where you lay pressed to the ground, “If you’re still okay to answer.”

  
You hummed an affirmative reply. Only the bridge of your nose and your eyes were visible like this; you liked blankets more than you probably should.

  
“Why did you go along with our fake names for so long?”

  
The question did not surprise you.

  
“You did that shit for a reason, right?” you asked, “It’s safer that way. Didn’t know if you’d believe a word I said.”

  
“We thought you were going to sell us out for a while,” Karin admitted, “We weren’t even sure you were the real Grimmjow.”

  
Her words stirred something in you and suddenly there was something you needed to ask too, just one small question that was too self-indulgent to pass on.

  
“Kurosaki mentioned me?” you asked.

  
You blinked slowly and your breath blew some sand away from you, small rivulets fanning out.

  
The sisters looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t place.

  
“Yeah,” Karin told you, “He mentioned you were enemies once but you changed sides when the Quincy attacked.”

  
“Heh,” you said and sneered, “Changed sides? Fucking liar. I had my own agenda.”

  
Like this your head felt like cotton and it was easier to speak than usual; they shared something with you and you couldn’t help but let it resonate.

  
Yuzu giggled.

  
“He said that was your reason,” she said, “He also said you were a horrible liar.”

  
Even while she spoke the sadness crept into her voice and she fell quiet immediately after her sentence was finished. The happiness of it seemed tainted then, too loud in a desert with only so very few people alive.

  
Your fingers carded through the sand, languid movements as your thoughts slowed.

  
“He talked about you, too,” you muttered, “All proud and shit. That’s why I knew it was you when I met you out here.”

  
Neither of them cried but even you could tell that was where you should stop; contrary to popular belief you did possess a bit of tact.

  
“Thank you,” Yuzu told you and her eyes were shiny, “That really means a lot.”

  
“Do get some sleep though,” Karin added, “You look worse than dad did when he tried to eat a spoonful of cinnamon.”

  
The fire flickered in front of your eyes, a pathetic little light source. As the rain still fell it had weakened by the second. Soon it would go out and you were not sure they would have the means to light it again.

  
After you let your eyes fall closed they kept on talking; you listened without paying attention.

  
“I miss the sun.”

  
“I miss our home.”

  
“I miss dad.”

  
“I miss Ichi-nii.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So you were with the Sternritter?”

  
“For a while. You?”

  
“I was with-” you began and grimaced, “With the shinigami.”

  
Bazz B grinned at you and your obvious aversion of the phrasing.

  
“Yeah, I felt similarly about working with them.”

  
“You did?”

  
“For a while,” he said and leaned back against a rather large metal chest, “I never saw you with them. The same goes for the third assault.”

  
“If you don’t fucking believe I was there, why would you drag me all the way here?” you asked in return and settled down hesitantly, “For the second time, even. What’s this all about?”

  
The last time he had spoken of severed limbs and how to heal them, of technology and techniques that you had not dreamed of. In Hueco Mundo there had never been machinery or electricity to the extent that he described; all you remembered were lights and water in Las Noches itself.

  
“If you weren’t a war criminal the Soul King wouldn’t have sicced his leeches on you,” Bazz B told you, speaking more clearly and confident now that he sat across from you, “If you hadn’t been there on the side of the shinigami when I was they wouldn’t have punished you. That just leaves the question why the hell we never met.”

  
You remembered the day they all called the third assault- after the first and second were averted it was the third attack on Soul Society that sealed the deal on its future. A bright sky, a brighter stain of blood on the walls of the Soul King’s chamber. Just a select few to witness the birth of a new god.

  
“I was with Kurosaki,” you said, a little more than common knowledge but still no secret, “During Yhwach’s last attack.”

  
Bazz B sat up a little straighter, cocked his head like a curious bird.

  
“You were up there? When it happened? How are you not dead?”

  
“Karma,” you sneered, “Doesn’t matter how. I got out to find this shithole instead of a world.”

  
He nodded and leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head. You studied him and tried to remember if anyone talked of an ally with pink hair and a reiatsu as bright as the sun. Blood, so much blood, on the Soul King’s throne.

  
“Well, that would explain why I didn’t see you,” Bazz B muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I never got to fight Kurosaki.”

  
He sounded regretful and you were about to tell him that he had no right to ask for that when you remembered that it didn’t matter much now.

  
“It’s overrated,” you commented, “You didn’t miss much.”

  
“Oh? Now that sounds like a lie. Your credibility just went way down, man. Sure you weren’t lying before?”

  
“Believe me or not,” you said and shrugged, “Should have enough fucking proof right there.”

  
Bazz B followed the direction you nodded with his eyes, examined the stump below your shoulder. Something about the way he held himself told you that this wasn’t the first time he was faced with such a disability.

  
“Same happened to me,” he proved you right just a second later, squinted at the injury, “Minus the infection. Gotta love me some dismemberment.”

  
“Yeah, a real fucking joy.”

  
Inside his pocket dimension the air seemed to buzz; there was a constant noise keeping you on edge. However, as its sound continued you found yourself lulled into a more relaxed state by the static. A gradual process until you yawned.

  
“This place drains your reaitsu,” Bazz B informed you casually, “Guess it gets to you so damn fast because yours is so low.”

  
“That your plan? Waiting till I drop dead?”

  
“If I wanted you dead I could have disintegrated you already,” he said and grinned, “No consequences whatsoever, the Espada still don’t have shit on us.”

  
“Save it,” you replied and sneered, “If you were still part of their little fucked up cult you wouldn’t sit out here in the desert with someone dying in your back room.”

  
Bazz B’s demeanour changed almost instantly. The line of his shoulders tensed, his fingers clenched into fists.

  
“So you noticed,” he said and lifted his head, “Perceptive, ain’t ya?”

  
“Who do you have in there? Some Quincy friend who fucked up, too?”

  
It was something you had noticed the second you walked in; the low pulse of a foreign reiatsu hidden away behind some of the chests. There were a lot of things scattered about in here, the treasure he had amassed and hoarded like a dragon out of a fairy tale. Those were also on the list of things you had never known in Hueco Mundo.

  
“Yeah,” Bazz B answered your question, “You could say that.”

  
He tensed even more as you jumped back on your feet. His attempt to pass it off as surprise did not work on you; his eyes followed your movements too closely.

  
As you leaned over the row of chests you saw the lifeless body of his friend, covered in hastily wrapped bandages and something that looked like a plastic blanket. Judging by the shape of the body you guessed it was a man, his long hair spilling out from beneath his covers.

  
“Friend of yours, huh?” you asked and turned as you realized your mistake, repeated the question where Bazz B could read it from your lips, “Another Sternritter?”

  
He sighed and drew a hand across his face once.

  
“Yeah,” he relented, “Guess it doesn’t make a difference if you know or not.”

  
It did. If his body language had not told you as much the underlying anger did- because you were an expert at spotting that particular emotion.

  
“Jugram Haschwalth,” Bazz B told you and knowing the Quincy that was supposed to be a name, “An old friend of mine.”

  
“Adorable,” you dead-panned and tore your eyes away from the corpse-like man, “But ‘s none of my business anyway.”

  
“Not gonna sell me out? Thought that was what Hollows did.”

  
“Sell you out for what? Plus one friendship points with the Quincy? I’d rather you owe me a damn favour for the rest of your life.”

  
“Fair,” Bazz B agreed and squinted, “Hey, man, you’re kinda sorta turning as white as the bone in an open fracture. How bad did that infection fuck you up?”

  
You hated it, that faint feeling creeping up on you, that feeling of fragility. Before you came to the wasteland losing consciousness never happened as often; maybe in a violent fight, with a scythe stuck in your chest. Now it was all on you and that disgusting foreign presence stuck in your flesh.

  
“None of your,” you began and inhaled sharply, “-fucking business. ‘m fine.”

  
Bazz B caught you as you fell over. The embarrassment tinted your cheeks bright red until your face burned. It felt like a fever; and not in a pleasant way that set your stomach aflame.

  
“And we only just met,” Bazz B said and snickered, “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

  
“Fuck off.”

  
“I can’t see what you said,” he said and grunted as he propped you up against himself, “But I’ll assume it was rude and detrimental to this relationship.”

  
You followed his lead as he tore into the side of his pocket dimension. It was repulsive, allowing a stranger this close and you bristled even if you knew you could not stand on your own. A few years ago you would have crawled away. Anything but dependence.

  
As soon as you could you backed away, moved out of his grasp. Outside, in the wasteland with the sky as dark as ever, the pressure on your body lessened so much you had to stifle a gasp. It couldn’t get rid of the ache in your right shoulder.

  
“Feeling better?” Bazz B asked and lifted an eyebrow as you turned to face him again.

  
“Fucking fantastic,” you growled and as he motioned you to repeat it you only waved him off. An insignificant detail.

  
“Gotta do something about that infection, though. It’ll eat right through you if you let it.”

  
His words were eerily similar to the ones Nel had chosen; and the same reaction came to your mind, the same anger that was quick to rise and felt like splinters in your throat as it ebbed away. This time you listened because things were changing.

  
“So what, you want me to cut the rest of my arm off right here?” you asked, “Just call the Soul King here to tear me apart? I don’t think so.”

  
“Well,” Bazz B replied and cocked his head, “If you recall my offer then you should know what option there is.”

  
You did remember. You hadn’t liked the prospect then and you didn’t now.

  
“I am just gonna give you back your arm,” he had said, “And in exchange you will come take down the Soul King with me. In the middle of Las Noches, in the heart of his palace.”

  
“So what?” you asked now and sneered at him, “We’ll just walk past the Espada and your Quincy pals and waltz up to the fucker to cut off his head?”

  
“I have a plan,” Bazz B answered, “All I need is someone to tag along. You want to go back to what was before, too, right?”

  
_Before_. By now you barely remembered what the sky in the human world had looked like, what color the water was and how alive the air.

  
“There’s no going back to that.”

  
“Because Kurosaki is dead?”

  
“Because this world is fucked and even if you turned back time there is no way to prevent this from happening.”

  
“Then why are you still here?” he asked and gestured at the desert surrounding you, “Why let those assholes push you around if you don’t think there is anything left worth fighting for?”

  
You didn’t tell him then, not with the phantom pain by your side and the mark on your neck. You hadn’t told anyone; the promise you made to the shinigami on a rooftop before going to end Yhwach for the second time.

  
“I can’t die just yet,” you told Bazz B now, “There is something I need to do.”

  
“Well,” he answered, sounding like he expected you to say that, “If you wait for much longer you won’t be able to walk around by yourself anymore. Then breathing will be a chore. Then you’ll become a shadow like the others.”

  
Their silhouettes were shapeless, nebulous against the darkening sky. They were up above; below you was the sand staring with undead eyes.

  
“It’s time to make a choice,” Pantera said under her breath, “You idiot, waiting for no one to arrive.”

 

* * *

 


	18. Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, with this part 1 of this fic is done and I will take a couple of weeks before getting into posting the next (still in this fic, it'll continue with chapter 19 and all, it's more of a way for me to organize the documents because this shit is long af)
> 
> oh, also a notice: I know it is in the tags as well and I might have said it before, but this fic doesn't follow all of the Soul King's palace canon. You'll see what parts I kept and which I didn't (and the reason for that decision, I hope). When I am typing this we are at chapter 665 and the changes are mostly about Yoruichi and Askin, but also the general plot progression. Ah man, you'll see. Vagueness end!
> 
> Warnings for: Death by suffocation, mentions of PTSD (related to Luppi)

* * *

 

 

Nel laughed as you hugged her, clumsy and awkward and wincing as your clothes moved across the stump of your arm.

  
“Apology accepted,” she said and held onto you like you were falling apart, “You big softie.”

  
You muttered a rude reply but it didn’t matter so much in the whole scheme of things; after all this time she was one of the very few people left from before. She had always been warmer and kinder than you, more at ease with the world and those in it. Of course you envied her; who wouldn’t? Not because her personality was more suited for the life out here - it wasn’t - and not because she still acted like a naive child sometimes. What truly fueled your jealousy was how easily she spoke her mind where you stumbled over words and got lost in empty threats.

  
Nel wasn’t quite sure how to embrace you, her fingers hesitant as she stroked across your spine, her posture just a little too rigid. But she knew how bad things were if you did this; how much it took for you to lower your guard, even around her. Touch was trust was a rarity.

  
“I’m just worried,” she told you quietly, “Have you seen yourself lately?”

  
You had; in the murky waters of a quiet pond. It had to look worse in person, up close and personal.

  
”That ugly?” you asked and grinned.

  
“The scars are there to stay,” Nel answered, “Your wounds are healing, but it still looked like a dog mauled you.”

  
You caught her hand before she could touch the scar tissue; stopped in the middle of the motion as if you could nip the intent itself in the bud.

  
“I was going to try and help with the recovery,” Nel said and she sounded full of sorrow again, so uncharacteristically sad, “Your choice.”

  
It was one of the things a shinigami had always laughed at you for; the inability to allow people close and talk to them how you wanted. There was always a defensive wall that stood firmly in place and no way around it; isolation was safe.

  
The first one to tell you about the value of allowing others close after a long time of distancing yourself was a human.

  
“I don’t need your help,” you said and it was not what you meant, “I’ll be fucking fine.”

  
Nel cocked her head and gave you a look of warranted disdain.

  
“Sure. With your arm gone and your body falling apart.”

  
“That’s my business.”

  
“And mine, too. So quit being such a child and let me help. You can repay me later by not fussing so much over everything.”

  
And her fingers pressed against the side of your face without warning, her reiatsu digging deep and her touch only half as gentle. You flinched and ducked away and staggered backwards out of her reach. A sound lodged in your throat, a primal terror in your bones.

  
Nel didn’t follow you this time.

  
“I-” you began and she waited for you to continue, patiently, “Don’t.”

  
“Yes?”

  
“Don’t just,” you tried again and swallowed your curses together with your pride until your throat ached and spasmed, “Don’t touch me without permission.”

  
It was a raw sentence, something that cut deep into the tissue and she recognized it as such; her eyes widened and in that moment you felt like she got what you meant for the first time in ages.

  
“Oh,” Nel said.

  
That was all there was to it. She nodded, slowly, stepped closer still.

  
“I’m not Luppi,” she stated and you knew it for the truth, “And you really don’t have the luxury to refuse my help.”

  
In moments like these you hated her with a burning passion; she was right, of course, but only in the way that Ulquiorra had been- a constant reminder that you were not as clever, not as capable, trash.

  
Then she hugged you again, held you close and stroked down your back. Kurosaki had done this, too. To provide comfort, to show concern. An exception to the rule, maybe, or perhaps you were about to change the rules in times of despair. Some wars called for drastic measures, you had always known that.

  
“Still don’t have my permission,” you muttered and didn’t sound angry even to your own mind. What for? It was too late now and no harm done.

  
Nel flinched as if she only realized now that your words had not resonated with her as much as they should have.

  
“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” she replied and sounded upset, “And I am worried. Your wounds are getting worse every time I see you. I don’t want to be alone in this shithole knowing you didn’t make it.”

  
She didn’t cry but she didn’t have to.

  
Your throat felt too tight. A long time ago you had not trusted her at all. She had looked down on you. Revisiting that memory was not worth the uncertainty.

  
“Yeah-” you began and cleared your throat, “Me neither.”

  
Hugs worked, the silly it sounded. They grounded you, pulled you back into your body. Disassociation helped with pain, not interpersonal relations.

  
Nel was your friend, one of the very few that were left. It was so easy to forget, so easy to fall back into old patterns that applied to similar situations. What worked then didn’t have to work now and what had failed you in Hueco Mundo had the potential to save you here.

  
“So just-” she said and squeezed you even tighter, “Think about a more permanent solution. I know you have something, you always do. I’ll drag our asses to the core of Las Noches if we have to.”

  
You believed her.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll get you inside the castle right now if you want to,” Ggio said and winked at you, “Would save us all some time, right?”

  
“Sure. If I got screwed over fast enough, you mean.”

  
“We had this talk before. Haven’t you spoken to our Lady Harribel? The Espada are as expendable and dangerous to themselves as they are to the outside. No one will miss one Gillian.”

  
It was not wrong; but it sounded like something Aizen would have said while speaking about Arrancar in general. He had never cared about any of you and vice versa- it had taken you long enough to admit he had been the dictator to your mass of soldiers in an occupied land. War never changed.

  
“Come on, Grimmjow,” Ggio coaxed you further along, “I’ll even owe you a favor after you killed him. Isn’t that your kind of currency?”

  
It was, the only thing valuable enough in the wasteland to risk your neck for.

  
“Your word doesn’t count for shit.”

  
“I’ll swear on my king’s honor I will owe you,” he countered and pressed a hand against his chest.

  
“The Soul King? That doesn’t mean anything, not even to you.”

  
“Barragan. King Barragan.”

  
The dead king and the throne you left behind. It wasn’t like you couldn’t remember looking up to it.

 

* * *

 

 

On your way to Las Noches you first heard the whistling; cheerful and resounding. Its melody was sweet and simple, a kid’s song. You knew there was something wrong even before you reached the Espada’s reclusive palace.

  
Up here, beneath the pale sky and on top of the world, Shawlong was dying a second time. He was writhing and convulsing on the ground, desperately clawing at his throat. His face was turning purple, then ashen gray. Swollen tongue, reddened eyes. You had seen others die like this before.

  
The whistling continued throughout the throes of death, swelled when Shawlong’s wheezing did and continued beyond his struggle.

  
It was a quiet end, a pitiful one.

  
The melody ended abruptly.

  
“Friend of yours?”

  
You looked up to where the Quincy sat perched on a windowsill; a hole in the wall of the palace. Atop the castle the wind felt softer on your skin.

  
Askin Nakk Le Vaar jumped off his resting spot and strolled over to you and the corpse, his eyes firmly fixed on you.

  
“Why did you kill him?” you asked, not bothering to explain the differences between a friend and a fracción; someone who was not a Hollow could not understand. A desert, a hunt; eternal.

  
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to,” Askin told you and shrugged, “I got him to confess, is all. Thought I should pass judgment right away.”

  
“Confess what?”

  
“Said he mutilated your Primera’s fracción. Cut the tongue right out of her mouth to stop her from talking.”

  
You looked down at Shawlong and remembered walking beside him, commanding him to follow you into death. A betrayal of sorts.

  
Askin watched you closely and grimaced.

  
“Stop it with that face, you’re going to make me feel bad about this.”

  
“Torturing for the Soul King?”

  
He didn’t answer your question, only watched you and sighed.

  
“Turning the air a person breathes into the worst poison and watching them crumble. It isn’t the most noble of fights, I suppose.”

  
“True,” you said and blinked slowly, ready to rip his throat out if you had to. Just one wrong move and you would end this charade for good.

  
“I wonder why he did it,” Askin mused and didn’t sound convincing at all, “Such a strange way to give up your life.”

  
“You’re still the worst fucking liar.”

  
And he laughed and looked at you as if he had not just forced someone to suffocate at his feet. Priorities were a strange thing; you did not feel flattered.

  
“So what am I lying about?” he asked, “Hm?”

  
“You could have done it and needed a scapegoat.”

  
“Oh. To save you from certain death, you mean?”

  
“Something along those lines.”

  
Askin huffed out a laugh and still looked at you with that strange expression; you never did make sense of it.

  
“It’s been a while since we spoke like this, you know.”

  
“I know.”

  
“Makes you think of the good ol’ times, doesn’t it?”

  
“It does.”

  
“Back in the day when all was well and pretty and the worst decision to make was what coffee to get.”

  
You sneered and it only seemed to spur him on; he smiled.

  
“Who needs arms with legs like yours, honestly?”

  
Askin grabbed your hand before you could stab him, spun you around and dropped you like one did at the end of a dance, one hand at the small of your back and the other clasped around yours. You had seen this during your visits to the human world before, this particular pose and gesture.

  
“For what it’s worth,” he said and kept you suspended for just a moment longer, “I didn’t choose this.”

  
“Then who did?” you growled and struggled against him until he let you go, “Who the fuck was it if not you?”

  
Askin watched you and furrowed his brow as he took in your seething rage, the tight line of your jaw.

  
“You actually trusted me,” he said and bit his bottom lip, “That’s so nice. You’re gonna make me cry.”

  
The second punch hit him square in the face and he produced a wet sound in the back of his throat.

  
“I didn’t trust you for one damn second,” you growled, “But you still lured those Quincy there during the third assault. It’s still your fucking fault all of this happened in the first place.”

 

  
Askin rubbed his reddening cheek and spat out a mouthful of blood.

  
“Gonna kill me now, Grimmjow? I won’t put up a fight, promise.”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“That’s a _no_ then.”

  
You wanted to punch him again, as if that would help anyone or change a damn thing. The wasteland was here already.

  
”You still owe me a favor,” you told him instead, “Don’t forget about that.”

  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  
You walked past him and Shawlong, not sparing them a second glance. The time of your fracciónes was long gone and you remembered them as they had been before the Winter War- what happened now was just an unfortunate side effect of the wasteland, just a puzzle piece not fitting where it should.

  
You never asked Shawlong to take a tongue for you.

  
“Hey, just one more thing,” Askin called out to you and it sounded as sincere as he could manage, “Just one tiny thing.”

  
You turned to look at him expectantly. Not a favor.

  
Askin was a spindly thin figure against the entirety of the dead sky. He looked lost, small.

  
“If you find a way out of here, any kind of way,” he began and crossed his arms before his chest as if that could keep the truth hidden and invisible, “Just say the word, okay?”

  
“Fuck off.”

  
Even without your strength, without all your senses in peak condition, you could sense his insides writhing like ice floes on a deep dark sea.

  
Infected, infected.

 

* * *

 

 

Aaroniero turned to face you as if his small unseeing eyes had any worth. In this form they served no function; it was the shape-shifting that granted him true strength.

  
It didn’t change how you looked at him; the first of you and yet nothing more than a beast eating when its stomach was already full, devouring more than it could ever handle until it felt powerful enough to call itself a god.

  
“What’s up,” you said and grinned at him, “How’s the, y’know, weather in the tank today?”

  
In the past he would have returned the insults, admitted to bloodlust and a list that you currently held a place on. What would he be like, you always wondered, with your power and soul drawn into that unsightly mess? The process was terrible to watch, as well. Aaroniero once devoured a lesser Arrancar during an Espada meeting, skin and bone and everything raw. Blood and flesh were not things you had problems with seeing; it was the sounds, the slurping and gurgling and slimy sliding noises that turned your stomach. Not all of the Arrancar transformed into a resurrección that was practical in combat; Aaroniero was built like a fortress, a grotesque batch of limbs and mouths and undefinable slabs of meat.

  
The Hollow in front of you now was barely your height, dressed in his typical clothes. It was just another example of how Aizen and the Hogyoku tried to force you into concepts not made for creatures of his magnitude.

  
“Are you listening?” you asked and stepped closer through the hall his new palace consisted of, “Are you asleep? Sulking?”

  
No light in here, no sun. Not that outside was any better.

  
In the darkness of his quarters far above the wasteland, on top of Las Noches and all it embodied now, you received no answer. Even as you asked again, less polite and more like the you others were used to, you were met with silence.

  
Something was strange even beyond that fact- as if all the malevolence he had hidden and swallowed was gone. The body in front of you seemed like a relic now, an empty artifact that only held sentimental value.

  
“You’re not Aaroniero at all,” you said.

  
The next second there was a blade pressed against your throat.

 

* * *

 


	19. [and no one listened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy I am back with part 2!!!
> 
> I have hyped this part of the story sooo much so here we go, here you go, here everyone goes
> 
> warnings for: some descriptions of injury, Hollow cannibalism

* * *

 

 

Santa Teresa marked the end of a century.

  
Above you was the world and below you the nothing-at-all; and for the first time in forever your mind cleared. Hueco Mundo had always been harsh, on everyone and everything and it didn’t come as a surprise that others were just slightly more proficient at survival than you. However, the most vivid memory you had, the one thing your thoughts revolved around ceaselessly, was not Nnoitra and his guillotine.

  
_You can’t bear to watch, can you, Grimmjow? Losing to the enemy and having your life protected by him?_

  
Nnoitra was wrong; you did watch, every small and excruciating detail of it. The aftermath of your defeat did not end with the stupid shinigami standing over you, protecting you. An enemy, one trying so hard to kill him. Even beyond Aizen and his war you would never really understand.

  
Then, in the desert and all it enveloped, you were falling apart. It wasn’t a joke now and it showed in the tense ridge of your spine that began to curl against the sand, the warm blood trickling away to the sides. Kurosaki had left you a mess and Nnoitra wiped the floor with your mangled remains. All in vain, as it seemed.

  
Their fight continued just a short distance away. It was not difficult to predict its outcome and you didn’t like the thought of it. But even if you had wanted to interfere there was no way you could- _a guy who can’t even move_ , indeed.

  
Your vision grew foggy as the pain began to set in. It had taken a while for the shock to wear off, as if your body wanted to ease you into the idea of being torn apart. With time it grew less and less kind to the point where the gaping cut on your neck and torso began to sting with something other than shame. You were too tired for anger now, just a hollow shell. Defeated. _Broken._

  
It was there, smoldering beneath the surface and waiting its turn; your thoughts curled around the rage like frightened humans around fire. When it burned bright you were alive.

  
Kurosaki shouted something and ended your musings. Of course his words were not directed at you, he had forgotten you ever even challenged him in the first place. You would make him regret it, every last word and second he ignored your presence now, thinking he was stronger than you, better, not as-

  
_But he protected you._

  
And there you were, at the beginning of the never-ending spiral he had thrown you in, the question of what was true and what just an elaborate lie. When shinigami spoke of trust and letting your guard down all they wanted was to stab you in the back. After all, you were just Hollows and their natural enemies- it had never been an issue _why_ they had to die.

  
Shawlong never bothered to ask why you wanted to go to the human world to eliminate every last potential threat. He knew exactly what it was like; he had an idea of the urge crawling under your skin that dictated every waking moment. He didn’t know it was in your dreams too, so deeply lodged inside your veins and fibers that you could never rip it out again.

 

_Fear._

  
It was never talked about by the Espada; a word that was reserved for your enemies and those below. Thoughts of weakness were best kept to yourself.

  
Kurosaki was afraid, too. You could see it in every small glance directed at his friends, every step backwards when Nnoitra’s reiatsu spiked. He pressed on despite it all. Your throat ached with how much you wanted to gag.

  
Something changed about the reiatsu ahead but the sun blinded you too much to see what was going on. You blinked, confused.

  
Hueco Mundo had no sun and neither did Las Noches, why was there-

  
Rational thought ceased to function with a start as the next wave of reiatsu hit you. You must have blacked out at some point; because there was a stranger among them now, a deep green pressure that sent you reeling.

  
With your hierro pierced and torn it hit you hard. The pressure on your chest increased until the ribs caved in. Soon their jagged edges scratched over your lungs; or that’s what you guessed because there was no way to tell now with your breathing restricted.

  
You saw nothing, heard nothing, said nothing. It was like being caught underwater, forced beneath the surface into the dark where there was no sound and no sense of self.

  
When you came to, still delirious with pain, there were two more reiatsus joining the fight; shinigami, no doubt.

  
The unpleasant sensation of their presence knocked some sense into you. For a moment you had been forced to rest; it had passed now and their forces were all around, you could feel others in the distance. Suddenly it was real again, the war and the enemy captains chasing after the remaining Espada.

  
You blinked twice and took a deep breath, listened to your failing lungs.

  
“Shit,” you hissed and gritted your teeth, “Fuck, you can’t be serious.”

  
A last inhale.

  
You pushed yourself off the ground with your right hand. Your fingers kept slipping, stained with blood and not finding a good angle on the sand. Even before you had known your injuries were grave, but only now that you realized you could no longer feel the left side of your body. Nnoitra’s cut curled around your neck and ran down your chest, rendered your left arm immobile. Still you dragged it along, the dead weight, the rotten flesh.

  
You cursed as you got to your feet, staggered the first few steps into the desert, away from the shinigami who would finish you without a doubt. There was no coordination in the paths you took, no higher purpose but escaping your fate. So you fled, branded a coward, to survive another day.

 

* * *

 

 

You ran into a shinigami captain just outside Aaroniero’s quarters, the most unlucky of encounters. Your world, your home, had been turned into a hunting ground within just a few moments and it was inevitable. Yet you were still surprised, still barely clinging to life where you stood on shaky feet.

  
She looked at you for a very long time. People tended to assume you were stupid because you were reckless, foolish because you were impulsive. However, in that moment where she had you like a deer in the headlights you were aware there was no point to running or fighting. Not like this, not without an advantage and your lungs in tatters like worn cloth.

  
The captain had a lieutenant with her; you saw their badges even as your world tilted to the side. There was no pity in their eyes; they assessed the situation, the stronger woman more calmly than her subordinate.

  
“Captain Unohana?” the latter asked and placed her hand on her sword, “What should we do about him?”

  
_I’m not gonna let you take me_ , you wanted to say, _I’ll rip you all to pieces if you come any closer._

  
But your throat felt too tight and your vocal cords useless, as if they suspended you in an empty space to see what made you tick. Watch the maniac spin, watch him claw at the walls and struggle to get to safety.

  
“Will you try to stop us, Espada?” the captain asked you with the most taciturn voice you had heard since Harribel last spoke to you.

  
You hesitated and wondered what there was to stop them from. Healing their allies? It was too late for that. Pessimism or not, your first thought was to wait this out, wait for recovery and a world free from their kind. In the depth of your heart you knew Aizen would never return for your people, not if he was so close to his goal. In the end you had always known you were expendable. That didn’t stop you from clinging to titles and meaning and the broken mask on your jaw. It was the one thing that didn’t hurt now.

  
Pantera spoke to you in hushed whispers, told you to stay put and survive, to wait and learn and forget all those words in the back of your head, of kings and letting go and allowing yourself to breathe. She wanted you on edge so that you would never be caught off guard again; she smelled your fear and shared it tenfold.

  
Eventually, you took a single step to the side. Not retreating. Not surrender.

  
The shinigami nodded at you and gestured her lieutenant to follow her; away from you, out into the sands again. Above your shaking form, far up in the fake sky, a Vasto Lorde howled for the first time.

 

* * *

 

 

You succumbed to your wounds in the shade of Aaroniero’s palace, his corpse untouched and your face drained of color. It was such a strange realization- death coming for you, a second time and after all this time you had spent trying to keep it at bay.

  
So when you slid down the wall of the building to sit pressed against it the sight of your own blood was surreal. You lifted up your hand to look at it, marveled at the visual for just one self-indulgent moment.

  
Las Noches was still not safe now, another desert within a desert. Szayel’s reiatsu had gone out, Nnoitra’s too. Behind you the absence of Aaroniero and Zommari became apparent as you focused on where you last sensed them. Unlike the others you had been too busy to notice their deaths right away; your one-track mind fixed on something and someone in particular.

  
You felt no sadness at the thought of their passing. They deserved no better and you would have killed them yourself had you seen an opening earlier. They meant nothing to you.

  
Ulquiorra was a different case- indifference was not sufficient for what you felt for him. You sensed him fade far up in the sky, his reiatsu burning bright and then flickering out as if he was dissolving into dust. If only you could have been the one to deal the finishing blow- the thought helped with the pain.

  
However, no matter how much you tried to make sense of the foreign presence on Las Noches’ roof you could not identify it. It felt like Kurosaki and rationally it should be. A blink of power, a stroke of incomprehensible strength. It struck a primal fear in you, lit it on fire somewhere between your mangled organs and soul. You flinched against your will as it grew more oppressive, more like a creature you had encountered in your days as an Adjuchas. The feel of a predator, an animal, something to run from even with your bones broken and your tendrils torn.

  
“The fuck are you-” you began and coughed, “-doing up there, Kurosaki?”

  
His power only grew and even here it hurt to focus on it. A presence out of this world, unreachable.

  
Your stomach dropped and so did you; you slumped against the wall, a breathless mess of a Hollow. There was nowhere to go or hide now, the feeling of dread gathering so fast that you gasped and clutched your chest.

  
The pressure culminated and Ulquiorra vanished. It took a second, no longer. One, two. Another gone.

  
You could breathe again then, a small mercy.

 

* * *

 

 

Nelliel found you a few days later when you were already unable to make it anywhere without collapsing. Your reiatsu was too low and could barely recover since you spent all day awake, suppressing it and healing your wounds bit by bit.

  
She was in her child form and watched you from quite a distance away.

  
“The fuck do you want?” you asked, preparing to strike her down if she as much as tried to transform. It was one of the few things you recalled from Nnoitra’s battle- the unfamiliar Espada emerging from this child’s body. She had been part of the ten before you joined, had to be older than you by a long shot. It didn’t matter. Pantera encouraged you to eliminate her.

  
“I could heal you,” she lisped and smiled hesitantly, the gaps in her teeth exposed. Her reiatsu signature was quiet now, barely a shadow under your scrutiny. It was hiding now, attempting to escape your notice. You didn’t trust her for a second.

  
“Fuck off, brat.”

  
The words were just as harsh as you had intended them to be and you saw her flinch; strange, for someone so obviously stronger than you.

  
“Itsygo protected you,” she said and ducked away from your anger as if it was a tangible thing lashing out at her, “And I thought-”

  
“I don’t care what the fuck you thought,” you snapped and interrupted her, “Get the hell away from me.”

  
Her eyes widened in fear and you wondered why that was- it shouldn’t matter that you were louder and more aggressive, you had felt her overwhelming reiatsu, there was no reason to be afraid if-

  
“You don’t remember what happened,” you stated and you didn’t have to look at her to know you were right.

  
“I-”

  
“Fuck off,” you interrupted her again and unsheathed Pantera, “Don’t think I won’t cut you in half just because you are suddenly weak again.”

  
Nelliel stared at you and there was recognition in her eyes now, as if your words suddenly cleared her head again. You didn’t wait around for her to gather her bearings.

  
She shrieked and crawled backwards as you cut a line through the sand, sent it flying in an arc and rain down upon her. If she had been a little more aware she could have felt the weakness in such a pathetic small attack. Instead she scrambled further away, not looking back at you.

  
Even such a simple movement cost you more strength than you could handle. White spots clouded your vision and Pantera called out to you to just _calm down, idiot_. She tried to stop you from walking, demanded you find rest and ignore the urge to tear the world apart. Because it was still there, even with the existential fear, existing beyond it on a scale even you could not fathom.

  
_Destruction_ was still carved into your bones, slept beneath any other ideas you came up with and emerged from below in moments like these.

  
Aizen, Nelliel, Nnoitra, Ulquiorra, even Kurosaki- they were nothing, no one, threats to be crushed and flayed and-

  
_And._

 

* * *

 

 

Aaroniero was already gone as you came for his soul, an empty cavern inside his palace with leftover traces of a battle. Reiatsu, blood, even shards of ice. You remembered Kurosaki’s friend, the tiny shinigami who had frozen you solid. Di Roy had shattered easily, your hierro was thicker and your will stronger than his. If she had fought the ninth Espada and won then that meant there was no trace of him now.

  
The cut on your chest was still trying to heal, too fast, too insistent. If you allowed it to close immediately there would be no reiatsu left to keep you on your feet- a death sentence like no other. Even is you had to crawl there was still a chance you would live.

Just never stop moving, never rest until they were all dead.

  
_Just stop already._

  
But you couldn’t. There was no way you could. Stopping was death, trusting was death, there was no other choice.

  
_Equals._

  
You thought yourself into a frenzy, flipped over snippets of conversation you picked up, fed the rage every last bit of emotion they invoked in you. So it festered and grew even now. A little more vicious each time.

  
“Nnoitra, then,” you said to yourself as if it could make the thought more appealing. Suddenly the dynamics shifted and he was on a list, Aaroniero already crossed out.

  
You went. There was nothing else to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Tesla was still alive as you arrived at his side. He was no longer able to talk, his throat slashed and spine protruding from the wound like a pale finger reaching out of his neck.

  
He wheezed and gasped as he recognized you, tears running down his cheeks. With the last of his strength he lifted his hand to stop you, curl his fingers around your ankle to tear out your leg. He barely managed to move at all.

  
Nnoitra died with a ghastly grimace on his face, blood pooling in his mouth and staining the edges of his huge teeth bright red.

  
The color of his soul was washed out even before you tore it out and devoured it, two bites and he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Yammy laughed as you approached him, the dog just barked at you until you flared your reiatsu.

  
“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh, Grimmjow?”

  
“That’s how it’s gonna be,” you said and placed a hand on his gigantic forehead. It could be mistaken for a friendly gesture but Yammy knew what you were going to do.

  
He was still laughing up to the point you drove Pantera into the side of his neck.

  
His soul was stronger than your own and you could barely force it down. It was like the first time you sank your teeth into a fellow Gillain’s flesh, hoping- no, _knowing_ that your fierce will had to overpower all of the others, your sense of self had to be the one to shape the identity of what you were to become.

  
Yammy put up a fight even in death and his rage was something you understood- he disgusted you to the core, even more so than the others. Coward, weakling. Defeated by a shinigami and rotting when he was supposed to be the strongest.

  
Pantera chuckled and reminded you it was just a strange coincidence you were not in Yammy’s stead right now. She quieted as your confusion resurfaced.

  
Kurosaki caught you as you were falling. Caught you again to make you feel safe and then kill you, but-

  
_But._

 

* * *

 


	20. not even one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me before updating: ah yes editing this won't be a problem  
> me now: ah yes;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
> 
> but yay!! 90 kudos hype, also the 20th chapter omg I never thought this would be this long. If you think that means it is gonna be over soon I gotta disappoint you, we're not even half-way done. I know, I am crying too. All the torture. All the editing. Some more ungrateful whining.
> 
> I don't think this needs any extra warnings tbh but if you see anything just shout @ me

* * *

 

Hueco Mundo was truly empty after the shinigami won their battles. One of them continued to scout the area around Las Noches’ core and reiatsu after reaitsu disappeared. They were taking some of the Arrancar with them. It didn’t sit right with you but you also did not care enough to go and help them- not at the risk of being caught and experimented on yourself.

  
_Calm_ , Pantera reminded you always, _Forget them. All you need is this. Seize the throne._

  
You never mentioned to her that the thought of being a king had become less appealing now; for a reason you didn’t understand just yet. Blood called to you still, the promise of souls sleeping beneath a shell of flesh. Power was what you needed now more than ever.

  
But anything beyond it; anything that wasn’t survival and defending your home was-

  
“Whatever,” you muttered, for the lack of a better word. One step at a time.

  
Hueco Mundo was a shitty home, there was no denying that. But as you roamed through the dunes for the first time in a long time you remembered that despite the moon calling for a hunt this was still where you lived, where you belonged.

  
No one was left to challenge you now. None of the Espada returned alive and you never went to check where they had gone; the shinigami would still be on alert for a while. The moment to eliminate them all had not yet arrived. Revenge would come, in time.

 

* * *

 

 

Harribel returned to Las Noches.

  
Her presence was calm and cold, before your inner eye her reiatsu pulsed blue. Its lines stretched across your entire vision, everything you could perceive. There was a reason she was the Tercera- or maybe she was even higher now.

  
Pantera laughed and it took you a while to realize numbers should not matter at all now. _Espada_ was not a valid concept anymore.

  
Harribel’s movement was slow and hesitant- you could tell from far away because she did not restrain her powers at all, let it expand like a hurricane across the dunes. If a natural disaster were to be compressed into a person it would end up like her; except she wielded the force of her attacks with silent control.

  
Her obvious display of power was a call for anyone alive in the desert to follow her. You wondered if she was going to decide to rule.

  
Her reiatsu surged and spiraled up into the pitch-black sky. No matter what its color was to your eyes, your pesquisa saw it as a dark blue reminiscent of the oceans she commanded.

  
“You could fight her,” Pantera suggested, “She doesn’t expect you to be stronger now. She might be injured.”

  
Your zanpakuto was not wrong, entirely. If she was about to claim Hueco Mundo as hers you could not let it happen, not even if she was the lesser of all possible evils. Serving under another ruler was not a prospect you enjoyed; being forced to the ground by a greater reiatsu again, forced to your knees as if they had the right to choose for you.

  
So you walked to Las Noches for the first time in weeks; the empty skeleton of a castle was not a spot you sought out if you could avoid it. Aizen was still embedded in the walls through his reiatsu- his influence would not fade unless someone eradicated every last trace of him.

  
You wondered if the shinigami had killed him by now; him and the others who had invaded your home and made you play their game of wanting to rule their world. There was no other choice, not with them granting you power and setting up their own society within Hueco Mundo.

  
Aizen was not your god; but you saw some of the others address him as such, watch him with awe and devotion as if he could cleave the sky open and free you all. He brought the sun to you, may it be a fake one.

  
“Still a bastard,” you said and the desert didn’t respond.

  
There was no one around to disagree with you; no one to tell you that aimless wandering would not explain the world to you.

 

* * *

 

 

“I claim no subjects,” Harribel said, “But here lies the throne.”

  
Of all the things to say or do she chose the most imposing one; the one that had you questioning your intentions within a moment. Pantera yelled at you to take charge already, to go and claim the throne, but for once you knew she was losing it so you wouldn’t. Two sides of the same coin but never on the same page. It could be tiring in trying times.

  
“So you decided to become queen, huh?” you asked and crossed the enormous white hall to gaze up at the throne, “Ambitious.”

  
Her stare was still cold and inquisitive. Everything she did felt like a challenge. _Make no mistake_ , she seemed to convey at all times, _You are a child to me._

  
You were; in her eyes you were young and impressionable, maddened by bitterness. In the days of the Espada she had rarely looked down on you; you suspected it was the way you treated your fracciónes that put you in her good graces. _Respect is something to be earned, not forced by fear. Naive to the end._

  
“Hueco Mundo is going to return to the way it was before,” Harribel said and closed her eyes, “Return to the fighting. The cruelty.”

  
“Business as usual, then. Who the fuck cares?”

  
She did and you knew even before you finished her sentence. It was foolish; thinking there was a different way for Hollows to live, with the shinigami winning the war. You could be forced to run a million times and would still not stay down if they left you alive. That was what Kurosaki hadn’t understood- even if you wanted to it was impossible.

  
“Are you going to accept my choice?” Harribel asked you, loud and clear, not leaving any doubt that she asked for politeness’ sake only, “Or are you going to insist on being king?”

  
You flushed at her words, scolded like a disobedient dog, your words used against you. In the midst of the battle you had not even noticed her presence, too caught up in your desperate efforts.

  
“Tch,” you said and shrugged, “Like there’s anything worth staying for.”

  
“You would find something, I am sure. Don’t you pride yourself on never giving up?”

  
“Grind my bones to dust and I will rise without them,” Pantera murmured and pressed her reiatsu tightly against yours, “Suffocate me and rage will breathe in my stead.”

  
Her anger was helpless and confused as she felt your decision, a crystal-cut thought forming in your head.

  
You left the empty throne behind.

 

* * *

 

 

The one you asked to explain everything to you was Apacchi.

  
“What the hell happened?” was how you phrased it and she scoffed at you and your curiosity as if it was a strange thing to want to know. There would be no graves for them, no funerals; only so very few returned. That was not the heart of the matter to you, though, your empathy had run dry before you even awoke a Hollow.

  
“We fought the shinigami,” Apacchi explained hesitantly and scratched her head, “All of us, even the Primera. We lost. What else is there to it?”

  
So much more, so many details on who died and who won and _why_ none of them barged into your world to slaughter the last of you.

  
“That human girl healed us. The one with the orange hair.”

  
You remembered her. Not fondly, no, but you recalled a debt you paid and one you didn’t. The color of the cuts on her face and the blood on her cheek after Loly hit her. _So, so stupid._

  
“Why did she do that?” you asked and remembered the look on her face as she told you she wouldn’t heal Kurosaki if that meant he would get hurt again. Determined, ready to fight even if she wasn’t.

  
“Because we asked her to,” Apacchi replied and shrugged, “Simple as that.”

  
It silenced you and even the smug look she gave you could not force you into a violent reaction. A century ago you were at war with the humans, fought fiercely to eliminate them to protect yourself. It didn’t matter how much time had passed in actuality; your subjective perception differed greatly.

  
“What happened to Aizen?” you asked, ignoring the snide comments Apacchi directed at you while you were deep in thought, “Did someone kill the bastard?”

  
_Someone_. Pantera disapproved, posture stiff and eyes cold.

  
“Gonna have to ask a shinigami for the details, dickhead,” Apacchi answered and shrugged, “He’s gone. That’s all I need to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hueco Mundo was a wasteland like no other as you walked on through its wide expanses. Las Noches’ roof was cracked open, the sun gone from your world.

  
It was always the moon for you, that sharp half-circle in the sky that haunted every stage of your existence. Since becoming an Adjuchas it had been a constant reminder- kill or be killed, devour or be devoured.

  
Now it reminded you of Nnoitra’s weapon; Santa Teresa’s blade was crescent-shaped, blinding in the sun, biting into you. It crippled you within a second, cut you off from existence with one blow-

  
Pantera growled in your subconscious as you followed the same train of thought once more, over and over.

  
-with _two_ blows. The second one was the death sentence, the one to bring an end to you. It never came.

  
“You know what the fuck happened,” Pantera muttered, “You have been thinking about this shit non-stop.”

  
She rarely got angry enough to swear but nothing riled her up as much as the overthinking, the replaying of memories to make sense of something that didn’t add up to you.

  
“If you’re so confused,” Pantera said, “Why don’t you go ask that brat what he was doing, huh? Why don’t you go ask for that rematch?”

  
She spoke out of spite and the confusion you shared; not mean-spirited words directed at you but rather an echo of what you were thinking.

  
Yes, you had to go find out what happened.

  
Kurosaki owed you a rematch; a death, as well.

 

* * *

 

 

The Garganta to the human world snapped open like a jaw and you stepped through with an air of confidence about yourself that you had not felt the last time you came here. Back then your arm had been taken from you, a stupid punishment for doing what no one else was ready to. Luppi’s comments and laugh still rang in your ears.

  
This time you were complete and at the peak of your strength, fueled by stronger souls and a thirst for payback. Last time Kurosaki had been just an ant to you, something weak to crush to extinguish the small flicker of power you had sensed in that first attack. With the mask and your disadvantages it had quickly become clear you were right all along; he had to die, had to die, had to be taken out of the equation before he decided to come after you and that one space the shinigami had not gotten to.

  
The human world was as dark as Hueco Mundo, a differently-shaped moon in the sky and a thousand different reiatsu assaulting you at once. After the dead silence of your home it was overwhelming at first; they were all weak, but they were so many, so many different colors and shapes of powers. Coupled with the noises and lights of their electricity below you took one step backwards, back into the cold and quiet of the Garganta.

  
Perhaps you would have fled that day had it not been for a voice calling out to you.

  
“Espada-san!” you heard, a sing-song tone, a peculiar greeting.

  
Pantera was in your hand a second later, readied to slash away at whoever had lain in wait for you.

  
A man with a striped hat and baggy clothes approached you, walking slowly and undeterred even though there was no ground to step on at all. His reiatsu felt like a shinigami’s to you but there was no doubt there was more to him than that. The smirk he gave you just solidified that suspicion.

  
Your fingers twitched around Pantera’s hilt.

  
“Now, now, there is no need for violence,” the man said and his smile never once faltered. His playful exterior combined with the feeling of _something-isn’t-right_ reminded you of Aizen; the kind of person who enjoyed thinking of his actions as moves in chess.

  
“What do you want?” you asked and drew your sword, finally, as if this was a situation you practiced a million times. In any scenario you considered you never ran into anyone, not on their turf, not on your way to find some answers. It left you vulnerable because you were asking for something you could not achieve by fighting. And you knew that if you used violence Hueco Mundo’s brittle peace would end within a second at best. It was still your home, your place to go.

  
“Well, Espada-san,” the shinigami began and tapped a finger against the brim of his hat, “I surmised it was you who wanted something, not the other way around.”

  
You stood in the empty air of a foreign world and you were tired of games this time.

  
“I want to know what happened,” you said and didn’t break eye contact, “After Aizen arrived here. So you’re gonna tell me.”

  
He laughed.

  
“What makes you think I know?”

  
“You know enough about Arrancar to tell I am a threat,” you replied haughtily and raised your chin, “Or you wouldn’t have brought your damn zanpakuto here and then hesitated to use it.”

  
The man laughed loudly and lowered his eyes.

  
“My, my, seems like I have been found out.”

  
He paused.

  
“Urahara Kisuke,” he said then, bowing a little, “I think I might have some answers for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hollows were not a single soul anymore; just a mess of many that one gave a name to. You and Pantera were not sure when you came out on top and climbed higher on a pile of corpses to glimpse at the sky.

  
There was a time when you physically could not stop yourself from moving, when your paws beat away at the sands and you ran from everything and everyone.

  
Harribel was the Espada of sacrifice but that didn’t mean the rest of you didn’t sacrifice something as well; you hid under masks and delusions of grandeur even with a thousand mouths waiting to feed on your flesh.

 

* * *

 

 

“...and Kurosaki-san beat Aizen, only to lose his powers in exchange,” Urahara finished and fanned himself, “And that brought an end to the war.”

  
“So where is he now?”

  
“Kurosaki is still in town, back to his normal life, enduring the woes of being a teenager, slowly becoming-”

  
“ _Aizen_. Is he dead?”

  
Urahara hid the lower half of his face behind his fan and chuckled as if he was part of some weird act that you couldn’t quite follow yet. Perhaps this shinigami had lived among the humans for too long and adapted their mannerisms.

  
“I am afraid I cannot tell you where he is, Espada-san,” he explained jovially, “But rest assured he is in good hands.”

  
“Shut up with that crap, just fucking tell me where he-”

  
The second you raised your voice you could feel something move, a single choppy motion past and in front of you. A metal glint, a slight pressure against your throat.

  
“Keep those claws in check.”

  
A woman stood before you, smirking even as she raised a sword against you. Her reiatsu and that of the zanpakuto were not aligned properly and even before you spoke up you observed the way she handled it. Inexperienced. It was not her weapon.

  
“Your guests giving you trouble again, Kisuke?” she asked over her shoulder without taking her eyes off you, “His spiritual pressure is not exactly subtle.”

  
Before her friend could answer you lashed out and snatched the weapon from her, a single swipe to her wrist to loosen her grip. It did not faze her and even as you succeeded you only felt you did because she allowed it.

  
Her reiatsu flared immediately after and you backed up, zanpakuto in hand. Sonido carried you to the exit, outside into the street by one step only.

  
Unlike your own, her pressure was not fluctuating at all, a tamed solid bulk of power that moved with lethal efficiency.

  
“Espada-san, if you could just leave Benihime here that would be marvellous-” Urahara told you and glanced at the ground expectantly. His reiatsu was less apparent, more of a gentle breeze. Another diversion, another case of something lying hidden beneath the harmless facade.

  
You considered how much damage it would do to throw the zanpakuto at his head; to stab it into the side of his shop and explode the whole building. They would know not to underestimate you, but there was the reminder of Las Noches falling apart and the shinigami taking some of your kind for experiments. It wasn’t time yet- things were too fragile still.

  
The two shinigami watched you carefully as you raised the zanpakuto slowly, only to stab it into the asphalt at your feet.

  
Pantera told you to break it apart but her anger calmed yours only further; Hueco Mundo first, yourself second. Without a place to go there was no reason to even speak of survival. Grow stronger, keep it safe, go for the world a different day.

  
They were still watching you as you ripped another Garganta into the air, never once stopped observing you until you returned to your realm.

  
You left with more unanswered questions than you arrived with.

 

* * *

 

 

Someone asked you why you never went to the human world for your rematch after that; someone who you met later on in your story, who you would not have been able to speak to at this moment.

  
The shinigami could have been lying about Kurosaki’s condition and your anger was supposed to be strong enough to sent you to his place anyway.

  
You ended up not going because Aizen was gone and that was a fact. There was no reason to hurry now and an eternity to prepare for the decisive battle.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re so single-minded,” Nelliel told you one day as she managed to shift back into her adult form, “Training, training, training. Is there nothing else for you to do?”

 

* * *

 

 

Your inner world was the only one you knew and you rarely visited it. Pantera spoke to you even if you were not meeting face to face so you had never felt the need to reflect on the workings of your own power.

  
Since losing to Nnoitra you used the isolation of your own mind as a training ground. Everything you crushed here you could rebuild with a thought, every bit of strength you gathered Pantera gained as well.

  
“We need to be faster,” she told you and curled her tail around your wrist, “Win with the first strike. Move before they can even spot you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Something is changing,” Harribel told you the last time you went to Las Noches, your pulse rapid with excitement and the urge to fight, eventually, when all was said and done and you were sure no one could match you. You were close, so close to the next level of evolution, the itch ran beneath your skin and arched your spine all by itself as if you were controlled by strings.

  
_Segunda Etapa_ , Pantera repeated ceaselessly and never tiring. A call for arms.

  
“What do you mean?” you asked, uncharacteristically quiet, “What’s changing exactly?”

  
Harribel was always rather somber, her moods influenced only by how happy her fracciónes were. With her brows knitted tightly together and her arms crossed over her chest she looked up at the sky as if she could sense a storm approaching. It wasn’t entirely unbelievable- maybe she could read the changes in environment from the state of the air.

  
“You have improved your abilities,” she avoided the question and inclined her head in your direction, “Are you not preparing for something, too?”

  
“Yeah,” you answered, not in the mood for sarcasm, “I don’t know what it is.”

  
You shifted from one leg to the other, fidgeted about as you tried to stand still. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel it; the shift in the atmosphere. You were so restless, waiting for calamity to strike. Wars came and passed, you suspected, but in the timeless desert the period of rest had not felt like it was nearly enough.

  
“You can rest when you’re dead,” Pantera told you quietly, “We need to keep moving. Be alert. Be on guard.”

  
Harribel observed you and closed her eyes, long lashes brushing down like small wings.

  
“Are you concerned?” she asked and it was a challenge still, “Are you going to ask for help?”

  
“Fuck no,” you replied immediately, “That isn’t my job. Isn’t like anything happened yet.”

  
You knew it would. You also knew there was no one you could ask; no option available for you. _Help_ was not a concept in your repertoire.

  
“I thought so,” Harribel replied and looked ahead once more, stern eyes fixed on the distance. Her throne on Las Noches was still unoccupied.

  
The next time you saw her she was in chains, dragged away like a puppet to a prison of bleak white bones.

 

* * *

 


	21. when the sky came crashing down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so you know how in canon the thousand year blood war arc is legit like, a week long or sth?  
> I took some creative liberty with the timespan here so ye the whole thing is longer than that  
> finger guns @ the audience (more like "bear with me here")
> 
> also I think this chapter doesn't require any warnings either, maybe "confused grimmjow warning" also "emotions"

* * *

 

 

 _Quincy_ became a notion of fear, then, a cause of disorder.

  
“I told you,” Pantera murmured, shaking, “I told you there was no such thing as peace, just the time between disasters. Isn’t it better this way? Isn’t it better than being disappointed?”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“You know I am right. You know there was no way letting it all go would work. It never does. It never ends. The cycle is vicious and endless.”

 

* * *

 

 

You felt Kurosaki’s reiatsu for the first time in two years and you froze immediately, your muscles locked up tight. It was what you had waited for; because of course he would find his powers again, would return stronger and bolder than before.

  
Hueco Mundo was a haven for Quincy and you let them invade your home for now; watched them do their thing and move deeper into the ruins. You had learned a lesson from Aizen and his people.

  
_Just stop already._

  
You did, for a while. Showed patience to make sure you knew what you were dealing with. It tore into you on the inside, the urge to fight and kill shook your whole body like a malfunctioning machine. You wanted to go, go, go already, rip them apart, regain control over this hell of a place. This hell of a home.

  
So you sharpened your claws and the blade of your sword, waited for the signal to fight. It could be anything- a sound, a smell, a person thought dead appearing after years of absence.

  
You used sonido with a newfound ease, chased over dunes and higher hills to avoid Quincy patrols. It limited your speed and you could feel a fight break out far away.

  
It beckoned you closer, drew you in.

  
Power could be intoxicating, Pantera thought deep down in your head. It kept you alive, should be all you circled around.

  
It had not crossed your mind before she mentioned it; you wondered what your intention were. A fight was a fight was a fight.

 

* * *

 

 

Pantera pressed against Urahara’s jaw, flattened side to the bone. There was something fascinating about his shock. Eyes so wide, all muscles bunched and readied. If you had to find a comparison for it you would choose a snake, curled up and prepared to strike even while it was cornered out of the blue.

  
“Takes you back, huh?” you asked and lifted his chin up with Pantera’s edge. The look in his eyes was still promising. Others would be afraid or even angry by now- he was cautious but trying to seem inviting, casual. Just a meeting between friends, no ulterior motives or intent to harm.

  
“Espada-san,” he greeted you and cocked his head just slightly. Pantera scratched across the line of his chin and drew a little blood out of a wound as fine as a hair.

  
“I suppose a _thank you_ is in order,” he continued and reached up to wipe the small trickle of red away, “That was quite a nuisance you disposed of for us.”

  
“For me,” you growled and forced him to lift his head a little further, “I don’t owe you anything.”

  
It wasn’t true and he knew it; now your debt was repaid, for answers to questions you hadn’t yet known to ask.

  
Kurosaki was gone already, you were late. The traces of his reiatsu still hung in the air. There were others- the healer who was trying to keep the Tres Bestias alive, a quiet man with a reiatsu unlike any human’s. Urahara, too, was still present, on his knees in front of you.

  
“I have a proposal for you,” he said and smiled serenely, “Something you might be interested in.”

  
Another trade. You looked to your right, to where the carcass of the Quincy still rested. Cut in half he did not look quite as imposing.

  
Pantera hissed at you to prolong the feeling of victory for another moment but you lowered her and stepped away, towards the fallen enemy. This time you were confident you would be able to sense an approaching foe fast enough.

  
The Quincy was in a different form now than you had ever seen a human in; wings and a strange glow above his head. It stirred something in the back of your mind, a memory shared by many souls but not enough to recall it fully. Its light was fading already, quickly obscured by blood and Hueco Mundo’s eternal night.

  
“He called it a Vollständig,” Urahara said quietly, more to himself than anyone else, least of all you, “Could it be-”

  
“Looks like a resurrección,” you commented and scoffed, kicking one side of the Quincy over with your foot, “Bastard still didn’t see me coming.”

  
There was no reason for you to intervene when you did, not really. You only hoped they would never question it, that desire you couldn’t understand just yet, that thirst for something you could not quench.

  
“It’s power,” Pantera said and stroked your reiatsu with the outer edges of hers, “Blood. Victory. You want to win because you need to. And you will win, Grimmjow. If you listen to me.”

  
“Now, Espada-san,” Urahara addressed you from the side, “Shall we discuss that proposal?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh,” Orihime Inoue said as she saw you for the first time since you collapsed at Kurosaki’s feet, “I- I thought you were dead.”

  
Her quiet companion observed you as you plopped down into the sand, zanpakuto draped over your lap.

  
“I’m not.”

  
She grew flustered immediately, as if for some reason she wanted to make a good impression on someone who had tried to kill her friends before. Of all the humans you had met she was the most incomprehensible- even Kurosaki had a certain logic to what he did. With her it was just kindness and the goodness of her heart, something you were not sure you would ever understand.

  
“Oh well,” she said and laughed nervously, “So, um, are you helping us now?”

  
“No.”

  
“Oh. So you are here to watch, only?”

  
“Fuck no.”

  
Orihime looked at you with those huge eyes of hers- she seemed just a second from tearing up at all times- and furrowed her brow.

  
“Are you being mind-controlled?” she asked after a short break and then gasped as the tale she spun in her head was getting more intense, “Is there a really small ant in your ear telling you what to do, crawling all the way up to your brain to-”

  
“Inoue,” the other human said with a deeper voice than you expected, “He is messing with you.”

  
He was taller than you, but then again you had spent a lot of time in the vicinity of people like Nnoitra or Yammy, so you were not too impressed by his height.

  
“Oh,” Orihime said and jumped a little, “Of course. Naturally. Sorry, I am still kind of nervous around here.”

  
Her honesty was surprising. If it were you there was no way you would have admitted such a thing to an enemy. Not right in front of them and not when you were not sure about their intentions still.

  
So you watched the two of them interact, studied their reactions and filed away the information for another day.

  
You remembered the strange kind of interest Ulquiorra had in her, the kind that required him to follow her around and threaten her. It was not like you went to intercept it, but you always wondered why he took so much pleasure in it.

  
“Well, I am glad to have you on the team then!” Orihime exclaimed again, still visibly excited, “I am sure we can beat the Quincy together!”

  
There was a snarky comment at the tip of your tongue but it seemed too easy to use it now. So you just rolled your eyes and looked away, determined to make them leave on their own.

  
The desert around you was still yours, still what you were aiming for. Even with their addition that didn’t change and neither did your priorities. So you played nice for now; as nice as you could.

  
“Sado-kun, let’s go!” Orihime said loudly, “I have something, um, something I need to show you!”

  
“What do you-”

  
“Bye, Jaegerjaquez-kun! See you around!”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I didn’t expect you to agree to the offer,” Urahara mused, wiping Benihime’s blade with a cloth, “I have to say I was surprised, Grimmjow-san.”

  
His mock-politeness was still as flawed as before, but your anger dissipated as you realized it was the way he addressed everyone. If he ever decided to single you out with his arrogance his head would roll- for now you calmed yourself, forcefully, remembered that you needed all of them alive if this war was to end.

  
Harribel in chains was not a visual you enjoyed; the thought of you in her place was excruciating even in theory. A slave to the people who stomped on your skulls, on your knees because they demanded you kneel.

  
“You just keep your end of the deal,” you snarled and got up from your perch in front of the weird tent he set up, “I’ll be off to train.”

  
They didn’t even try to stop you; Orihime and her friend followed you, though, stayed a good distance away to complete their own training.

  
It was how the time went by; it moved slower in here where there was no change in the weather. It was a clear, dark sky all day around, the moon crescent no matter the date.

  
Pantera scoffed at you and the thoughts of the human world stuck in your head on repeat. Weather and the sun and a constant hum of life. Hueco Mundo was the land of the dead for a reason.

  
As they moved on and grew stronger you were stuck at the same level, a blink away from evolving but never quite crossing the threshold. Your reiatsu continued to gather around you like a foreboding cloud; you moved further away from then. Humans were curious.

  
“You want to be seen but not looked at,” Pantera teased you, “You’re such a child, Grimmjow.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I hope Kurosaki-kun is alright.”

  
“Ichigo depends on us. We need to be ready before we join him.”

  
You heard them discuss in the middle of what they decided was the night. They didn’t trust you with the guard post at all and you would not go to sleep as long as they were awake. It was a dilemma and you were fast approaching the breaking point.

  
“We need to get strong enough not to depend on him, for once.”

  
Orihime sounded determined, as if this was a resolution she had been working towards for a long time.

  
You listened to them as they continued, all throughout the night as if they could not help but reassure each other. It intrigued you, in the hours of restlessness when your body was healing from the strain you put it through.

  
Your eyes fell shut. The amount of reiatsu you gathered and shaped to accommodate your soul was growing and it took a lot of energy to keep it under control. _Restless_ was more than just a concept now.

  
It took you a while to realize they had stopped speaking.

  
“You should get some rest, Jaegerjaquez-kun,” Orihime told you and sounded cheerful, “Don’t push yourself.”

  
Sado, as you were sure he was called, hummed in agreement.

  
You flipped them off without looking up.

  
Sleep came a little easier that night. It scared you to death.

 

* * *

 


	22. they said it was in the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings in this again, what is happening????? I bet everyone is just itching to get to the parts where I kill off the entire cast  
> amazing  
> so edgy 2k16
> 
> also holy shit I almost forgot to say thanks for 100 kudos!! thats so cool I am so happy people like this ayyyy

* * *

 

 

“Aw, look at him, kitty’s so confused by someone being nice to him,” Yoruichi said over the communicator, “Can’t stand a few human kids showing you how to be kind?”

  
You had learned her name just seconds into your deal with Urahara, her obnoxious smirk fixed on you from the first second. Contrary to her partner’s faked humbleness she was extroverted and confrontational, always looking for an opportunity to tease you. The first time you almost crashed their communication device.

  
“How about you shut the fuck up and get to work,” you snarled and hoped she got the message, “It’s fucking boring out here, how much longer do we have to stay put?”

  
None of them much appreciated your choice of words but you didn’t care by now. The more confused you were the more restless you became, the more Pantera whispered in your ear to start killing again. It built up to the point you couldn’t rest or sleep at all. Even when you sat down your leg bounced as if it had a mind of its own, channeling your energy into some sort of movement, anything at all.

  
“Now, now, don’t get impatient, Grimmjow-san,” Urahara told you, “You’ll get to join the fight soon enough. It is imperative we make use of the element of surprise-”

  
“Fuck all of that,” you interrupted him and turned away, “I’ll tear all of this shit apart if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

  
Your frustration got the better of you and it showed in everything you did; not only your speech, every step was just enraging you more and more.

  
Yoruichi sighed and gestured you to leave.

  
Despite feeling like a scolded child you followed her suggestion. The inside of the tent was only getting stuffier, the walls closing in with every second spent inside.

  
Hueco Mundo’s desert surface was still quiet, untouched even with thousands of spirits crawling underneath. Some of them were as tiny as bugs, others larger than a mountain. Many of them never saw the light of the moon, let alone Las Noches’ shadow.

  
Out here your anger wasn’t any quieter, the onslaught of power that never found a way into a proper form still the same impractical bulk inside you.

  
Sonido carried you past the humans watching you with concern, past their small settlement and over the dunes.

  
“They should thank you,” Pantera commented, “For walking away like this. You could have burned them all alive.”

  
She held in her snide comments as you let your reiatsu explode in a burst that flashed white before your own eyes. If Harribel’s and Nel’s spiritual pressure resembled waves yours was electricity- fast and sharp and sizzling as it spread.

  
It hurt to let it go unrestrained like this but the alternative was even worse- if you bottled it up, allowed it to grow exponentially there would be no trace of you when you lost control.

  
_Destruction_ never not meant destruction of the self.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know what it is,” Orihime said quietly and sank down into the sand, “I just don’t know how to continue when I have no idea where the problem is.”

  
It was a recurring thought of hers. _Not strong enough, a burden, unsuited for battle._

  
Sado was by her side, caught up in his own mode of practice. His idea was to keep his arms shifted for as long as possible, to adjust more naturally to the feeling of Hollow limbs. Their reiatsu was different from his. Darker, twisted. It had not escaped your notice but you let it slip by without comment.

  
Orihime was unsure of how to proceed, walked around for hours only to return to the same position. One circle, another.

  
“If I just focus harder I don’t progress at all,” she said, “Maybe Urahara was right that other time.”

  
“What do you mean? What did he tell you?”

  
Sado sounded disapproving, as if they had talked about this before in extensive detail but always ended up here again, the same discussion in an endless loop.

  
Orihime sighed.

  
“He just said that a warrior who lost their strength is in the way.”

  
“The fuck did he say that for?” you asked, speaking up for the first time since they had decided to lurk around where you collapsed. With every hour you spent preparing for a future battle it became more difficult to use them wisely. An animal, clawing at your skin from the inside.

  
“Oh, it was right before I was captured,” Orihime answered, sounding happy you decided to join their conversation, “One of my Shun Shun Rikka was destroyed in a fight and without him I had trouble attacking at all.”

  
You were not sure you had ever seen her fight, but you remembered the time frame she mentioned. Returning from a mission with a figurative leash around your neck only to find out it had been nothing but a decoy. You patched yourself up quietly but never had killing Aizen seemed so tempting.

  
“Huh,” you said and averted your eyes, “Fucking assholes.”

  
Losing your strength, losing a limb. To your mind it seemed strangely similar.

  
You heaved your body up into a seating position and blinked a few times to clear your head. It took you a while to get your bearings and when you did you found they were staring at you.

  
“What?” you snapped and frowned, “Thought you shinigami and whatever the hell you are were all about love and friendship and shit. Sure doesn’t sound like it to me.”

  
“That’s unexpectedly kind of you to say,” Sado said and his voice was meant to pacify you. It was annoying how well it worked.

  
“Like hell was that meant to be kind.”

  
You jumped to your feet, a fluid motion that didn’t betray your exhaustion. A balance of power, Shawlong had said, not an endless supply of it that you could not handle.

  
You stalked away, trying not to think of a time when a rank was everything and its loss the end of the world.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why is it you want to fight Kurosaki so badly?” Urahara asked and laughed as he dodged a swipe of your blade, “Is it pride?”

  
The others were clever enough not to mention that name or question your motivations. It was meaningless; you wouldn’t tell them and they wanted to keep the illusion of peace for as long as they could.

  
“Shut up,” you said for the twelfth time since he proposed a fight to practice your skills in combat. The questions wouldn’t cease.

  
“You know, I wondered why that simple promise was enough to keep you here for so long,” he mused and raised his zanpakuto to parry another curt slash to his sternum, “And you stay even now, even with these conditions and time slowing down. Does that rematch mean so much to you?”

  
“He’s right,” Pantera commented even as she drove towards his weak spots, “It’s foolish. It serves no purpose.”

  
“I’ll be the one to kill Kurosaki,” you said between gritted teeth, moved fast and precise to deal a blow to the back of Urahara’s hat.

  
“Does that mean you will protect him?”

  
“It means I will kill him at the end of this.”

  
“It means no one else is allowed to harm him,” he corrected you, “So if you feel that way, can you really say you hate him at all?”

  
Another step, an uppercut that cut open his defenses. You stabbed Pantera forward without hesitation. It would have pierced his neck had he not dashed to the side.

  
“Use your bankai,” you demanded and pressed your claws against your zanpakuto, ready to swipe them down and into a different form.

  
“Not until you can control yourself,” Urahara answered, “And who else would offer you an empty space to kill Kurosaki in? Better not kill _me_ until then, Espada-san.”

  
“I’ll kill you whenever the fuck I want-”

  
“Then what makes him so special, hm?” he asked, “Your past? _The future_?”

  
Silence.

  
“Well, I still have business to take care of,” Urahara sighed and then returned to his usual sing-song tone, “You must excuse me, play nice and don’t stay up too late, Grimmjow-san!”

  
You were left panting, alone, your head full of questions.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Orihime said as she walked up to you with a serious expression, “Please hear me out.”

  
It happened more and more often that you found yourself outside in the desert, minding your own business, just to have one of them joining you. At first you suspected they were keeping an eye on you. _Unstable. Liability_. What could have been a compliment in a different situation angered you now.

  
“What is it?” you asked and yawned, “Want someone dead?”

  
Orihime seemed torn between wanting to laugh and the uncertainty- _was it really a joke?_

  
“Oh, um, there is something else I wanted to ask first and-”

  
“Just, y’know, sit the fuck down,” you interrupted her and gestured to the side, “That fidgeting is pissing me off.”

  
Orihime nodded and gingerly lowered herself to the ground, hands folded in her lap, spine stiff. Even now she was not completely still, tapping her fingers together and biting her lip. It seemed like you were not the only one growing restless.

  
“Go ahead then,” you growled and rested your chin on your palm.

  
She took a deep breath, composed herself. As she met your eyes again the hesitation was gone.

  
“Are you going to kill Kurosaki-kun as soon as you get a chance?”

 

* * *

 

 

Sado never asked you a question like that; he barely spoke to you at all. It was obvious he was wary of you but also not talkative in general. Another oddball in Kurosaki’s merry band of misfits.

  
“I’ll take the first guard,” Sado announced and glanced over to you as if he was expecting defiance. You could not just disappoint him.

  
“I got it covered.”

  
He angled his head slightly, tilted it just a fraction to the side.

  
“You have not slept in a long time.”

  
It was true; with your condition it was near impossible not to be awake because your power was buzzing in your ears. Noise, so much noise.

 

“So what? I don’t fucking need it. Mind your own business.”

  
Sado nodded and stepped away from your violent grimace, left you to your own devices. It required a lot of trust to allow you to guard them when they were most vulnerable; or maybe it was idiocy.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m gonna fight him whenever I want to and there’s time,” you said, “But someone’s gotta kill that Quincy emperor, right?”

  
It was the best and only answer you could give her. It boiled in your blood, the urge to take out an enemy, a nemesis. Someone who looked down on you.

  
_But-_

  
“Okay,” Orihime said and smiled a smile of relief, “That’s okay. I am glad to hear that.”

  
Your bewilderment showed, apparently, since she giggled quietly.

  
“We share an enemy,” she explained, “You recognize that. So as long as our agendas are the same I don’t have to distrust you. I’d rather not, really.”

  
It was a way of thinking you liked; simplistic and reliable. However, she based it on your word alone and that meant she already believed you. Trusted you, even, with the safety of her dearest friend.

  
“Yeah, whatever,” you said and waved it off, “So what’s the favor? I ain’t got all day.”

  
It was a lie, of course. There was nothing to do but wait for the moment when your presence was needed. Any second now, any minute.

  
“Oh yes, right,” Orihime gathered herself and nodded at you, “There is something only you can do.”

  
Pantera snickered at that, the first time she showed any reaction to the human girl at all. Now your zanpakuto’s spirit was only adding exasperation and bitterness to your thoughts.

  
“She’s gonna ask for something impossible,” she whispered, “Mercy, for example. Something we can’t afford.”

  
Orihime’s hand stilled.

  
“I want you to fight me,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

Once you lost control. The power you had woven around your soul was tightly-knitted, an impenetrable net shielding you. Aizen had spoken of a Hollow’s mask once, of how it hid their hearts and helped to focus on what was essential; on his war, back then.

  
_As long as you stay with me, you don’t have to be afraid._

  
So you forced down his strange beverages and let _him_ force _you_ to the ground in turn as a punishment for acting independently. Loyalty to Aizen had never been a defining factor.

  
However, he had given you strength and the means to use it; a body that could endure the force of your reiatsu.

  
Suddenly that was not enough and you were shaking apart, a mess with an enemy’s weapon aimed at your head. Your eyes widened, breath hitched as your spiritual pressure bore down on you, exploded.

  
Sado stopped the movement of his chalk-white demonic arm an inch before your nose. He could have cut clean through your skull, left an indent in the rocks behind you. Instead he halted all attacks, let you refocus, waited for you to stop- _stop what?_

  
“Are you alright?” Sado asked. No pressure, no judgment. Humans were strange, incomprehensible. _Equals. Names didn’t matter._

  
You were about to lie but the words caught in your throat and you swayed a little. _Rush, rush, to the finish line. Better hurry._

  
“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, “The fuck is this shit-”

  
“Get some rest,” you heard Sado say and wanted to claw his eyes out for suggesting you needed a break, “There is still time to fight later.”

  
For a second it seemed like he was reaching out to you- a hand on your shoulder, a look of concern.

  
Patience. You barely understood.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I know someone else who’s kinda like this,” you mused after you knocked Orihime over for the third time, “Someone who wants to fight but doesn’t want to _fight_ , y’know.”

  
She rubbed the back of her head and climbed to her feet again. Still, she had not complained once or gone back on her word, not even as you cut into her arm. The wound was still there, the blood fresh.

  
“Don’t go easy on me,” she repeated what she had chosen to say when proposing this to you.

  
“Oh, I won’t,” you replied immediately, “I won’t lose on purpose just to spare you the embarrassment. It’s a challenge. I’ll fight.”

  
It filled her with determination. Somehow you doubted many others took her seriously enough to accept a duel.

  
Orihime blocked your next slash and wanted to launch an attack of her own; your cero caught her off guard and sent her flying once again. This time she recovered more quickly.

  
“Your friend,” she began, gulped down a breath, “What did they do?”

  
“ _Friend_ , huh?” you parroted and sneered, “He avoided every damn fight he could.”

  
Her face fell and it wasn’t difficult to imagine what came to her mind. _In the way._

  
“But he knew when he had to give up that fucking attitude,” you continued and used sonido, “Because otherwise it would cost him his head.”

  
Orihime swallowed thickly as Pantera’s tip pressed against the spot between her collarbones. Just one tiny motion and she was gone for good. In her mind, that was.

  
“Checkmate,” you said, “Or whatever you humans say.”

  
“Are you saying I am hopeless?”

  
Her voice was a little discouraged but not yet fully intimidated.

  
“What the fuck would it change if I was?” you asked, “If you decide you can’t fight, you’re as good as dead already. If you say you can, get better at it until that’s not just bullshit anymore.”

  
“But-”

  
“What good is it gonna do for all those precious _friends_ if you end up dying because you don’t wanna hurt anyone, huh? Priorities are a thing, y’know. Decide what’s important and focus on that.”

  
Pantera was shaking her head; it was a strange feeling considering her physical form was not materialized in anything but the shape of a sword.

  
“So passionate,” she taunted, “One could think you care.”

  
And you did, somehow- in the way that it pissed you off and reminded you of the days when Luppi told you what you could or couldn’t do.

  
Orihime stared at you with an emotion you couldn’t fathom. Then she smiled, the tip of a sword still hovering above her skin.

  
“Thank you,” she said, “I think I might give that a try.”

  
Her next attack swept you off your feet, literally, as her concentrated power slammed into the back of your calves. You hit the ground with a dull thud and blinked rapidly to clear the haze of disorientation.

  
The indignation you felt didn’t last for very long; she wasn’t laughing at you. Instead, Orihime took a few steps backwards, prepared for the next round.

  
You scoffed as you got back up, but it was impossible to hide your grin.

  
Not a fight to the death, something else, something new.

  
It was still _fun._

  
The blood rushed in your head, the sand pulsed with the reiatsu you send spiraling down. A glance at your opponent.

  
You struck, not to kill, for the first time in a while.

 

* * *

 

 

Nel entered the picture later than the others.

  
According to Urahara she had lurked around the camp for a while now in her child form, not knowing how to proceed or how to be of use with no solid means to access her true strength.

  
Now the bracelet clicked shut around her wrist and she transformed again, into a warrior. By the time she had used this shape to utterly crush Nnoitra you had already been incapacitated and unable to watch the proceedings. Her reiatsu was as clear then as it was now, searching friend and foe alike. With her head held high you didn’t doubt she was a former Espada. _Former_ , though. Beatable. Not an impossibility.

  
“Oh this is _way_ better,” she said and smiled, “You’re amazing for such a shady guy!”

  
Urahara shrugged it off even though he was clearly flattered.

  
“Fight me,” you interrupted their happy moment. Everyone looked at you with a wide range of emotions; resignation and surprise, anger and arrogance.

  
“I won’t fight a child just like I wouldn’t fight as one,” Nelliel stated and brushed past you with a flick of her wrist. When her joy faded her eyes were as harsh as steel.

  
Like the queen; like Harribel.

 

* * *

 

 

After hearing Kurosaki’s voice again you knew there was no time to waste.

  
Pantera was quieter now, calming down from the frenzy that had sent you into hours upon hours of painful training. Your inner world was a wasteland still but with every second of waiting its planes and field were set ablaze. The fire spread further now, devoured everything and left you with a thirst for _something_ , an undefinable, intangible concept. Power, recognition, respect. A king no longer.

  
Orihime was still as dedicated to her progress as you were. By now she went beyond blocking hits; she reflected their impact, hit harder than she was hurt.

  
Sado watched your sleep as you allowed yourself to rest. It embarrassed you, freaked you out, to know that without someone keeping watch you had trouble to find a moment of solace. It reeked of dependency, of weakness. He never spoke of it and you were grateful.

  
Urahara watched you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness- and as you licked your wounds and cradled the bruises on your forearms you wondered if he would take you apart, if given the chance, see what made you tick. After all, his invention was what gave birth to your kind, ripped you from the flesh you were embedded into.

  
Nel warmed up to you; just a little, just as much as she needed to accept your challenge.

  
While you crossed blades with the former Tres, Yoruichi spoke to you; serious now, her voice heavy with meaning. Her message was clear, her choice of words simple as death was.

  
_It is time._

 

* * *

 


	23. they said it was in the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor character death.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, to be honest, especially because I can shove my (many) complaints about canon in here. Very subtly. Not at all explicit and bitter. Whoops.

 

* * *

 

 

Hatred was a funny thing, a fragile thing. Sometimes it ended before it began, sometimes you found it was based on a misunderstanding. Communication was not as easy as shoving a clear message from one mind into another. Something was bound to be lost along the way.

  
“You are obsessed,” Szayel told you when he still could, “Interesting. Is he all you can think about?”

  
_Kurosaki_ was more than a name or concept. A way to address someone before you bent their rips to the side, threw out what organs were desperately needed. It changed as swiftly as the weather in the human world, shifted from one state to another without a hitch. Determining when it had started, when the name found its significance, was futile since it all ran like a circle would, spinning endlessly round for round until there was no beginning anymore.

  
_Kurosaki_ was there when you opened the Garganta, staring right at you and that stupid grin you had trouble holding back. It slimmed your eyes, stretched your lips. A grimace but something honest, too.

  
“You’re-” he said and you waited for it, anticipation shivering alive, “-Grimmjow!”

  
And you were and maybe, just maybe, that was more than a name to him, too.

 

* * *

 

 

Sado heaved you up on your feet after Orihime healed your body from the poison, his warm hand on the small of your back and it didn’t matter now, wasn’t horrible enough to stop.

  
“I’ll crush that bastard,” you growled and staggered, “I’ll rip his throat out through his neck.”

  
“He could have killed you,” Sado said and lifted a hand as you wanted to protest, “I wonder why he didn’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

The smiling was the worst of all, the one thing above all others that you could not make sense of no matter how hard you tried. Such a simple gesture, something you always believed to understand until suddenly Kurosaki used it aimed at you.

  
You stared at him whenever it happened, incredulous and confused enough to end all other rational thought.

  
_What is this_ , you would think and bristle, _What are you trying to prove?_

  
“The fuck are you smiling at me for?” you asked him once after it all came crashing down. Pretense was easy, curiosity not so much.

  
Pantera complained even before you finished your sentence but you ignored her. As a part of you who sensed danger in everything she overreacted sometimes. It was a weak excuse.

  
“Oh, no reason,” Kurosaki answered and shrugged, “Felt like it, I guess.”

  
It was not a satisfactory answer at all and the longer you observed his innocent expression the angrier you got. Of course this was just part of some form of mockery- _laugh at the stupid Hollow, laugh at how much he changed, laugh at the fact he is still alive._

  
“Are you making fun of me?” you asked and your fingers trembled with suppressed rage, “Are you fucking laughing at me?”

  
Kurosaki gaped at you. You expected further amusement or maybe dismissal, not surprise and a bit of anger.

  
“What the hell are you talking about? Of course I am not making fun of you.”

  
Sincerity, so much sincerity in words as simple as that. You wanted so badly to keep believing he was lying, to think of it as a way to insult you, but the furrow of Kurosaki’s brow-

  
_He wasn’t lying._

  
It froze you in place immediately, the realization of the century. Pantera’s protests were obscure just by how shocked you were. It was right there, in the way Kurosaki looked at you now, with an emotion you were not familiar with. He was _hurt_ by the accusation.

  
“Isn’t like it matters,” you said and sneered, “Whatever.”

  
It was all you knew how to do- the other option was to reach out and tear his spine out through his mouth, crush his skull so that those eyes could never look at you ever again.

  
You walked away.

  
He watched you, you were sure of it.

  
_He didn’t lie._

 

* * *

 

 

Orihime fell in love; or maybe it had been like this all along and you just saw the end of it. It wasn’t like you had any experience with it at all or knew how humans went about deciding when a friend was no longer just a friend; those were concepts you had not bothered with before. There was a war now and the battle cry of thousand-year old Quincy resonated from within their palace’s halls.

  
Orihime found time in between those things because she wanted to be happy- she told you as much at some point, her eyes smiling so brightly you wondered how she was real.

  
“Rukia!” she shouted as the other shinigami finally joined your group, reuniting you with more strangers you were supposed to rely on.

  
“They are friends of the people you trust,” Yoruichi said to you as you stood further away from them, a hand on your shoulder before you could slap it away, “Isn’t that enough?”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“Yoruichi-san, have you forgotten how jealous cats can be?” Urahara chimed in and squeezed your shoulder as he passed, “Please refrain from marking your territory in any shape or form, Grimmjow-san-”

  
Of course you knew he was teasing, waiting for a reaction even as he brushed past you on the way to where the next business required his attention. Still, you could not let it slide without anger, you didn’t have the luxury to relax. _Surrounded._

  
“Go fuck yourself,” you said, maybe not as eloquent as you would have liked.

  
Urahara seemed to want to continue the conversation, no matter how futile, but you brushed him off and walked away. Anger, yes. A fight? Not just yet. Not when you were so close to the finishing line.

  
Orihime was laughing and you felt you were intruding just by listening to them; her friend smiled and chuckled with her, wrapped up in each others arms.

  
You remembered the shinigami; she was the one who froze your skin and thought she could get away with it. She also killed Di Roy. It was nothing you just forgot.

  
Her laughter was stifled by your presence and you could see it in her eyes how much she mistrusted you and everything you stood for; unlike Kurosaki she knew exactly how this game was played, how Hollows and shinigami had to act. It was a law of nature, an age-old wisdom. Fight to the death; fight on after, too.

  
“You’re that Espada,” she stated and looked you up and down, “What are you doing here?”

  
The snarky reply was on the tip of your tongue, but Orihime intercepted.

  
“Jaegerjaquez-kun has come to help us,” she said, “To protect his home and defeat the invaders. Nel is also with us! I know you don’t know them very well, Rukia, but Kurosaki-kun trusts them and so do I.”

  
“Oh. Hueco Mundo is in danger, too?”

  
It seemed like a strange thing to be hung up about but you nodded with a frown.

  
“Quincy bastards everywhere, trying to exterminate us like fucking insects.”

  
“My condolences,” Rukia said sternly, “If you try to hurt any of the others, I’ll end you. Apart from that I won’t give you any trouble, Espada.”

  
Orihime let out a shriek as the shinigami took her hand and led her away; because while you had needed to exchange a few words this was the moment that wasn’t meant for you.

  
They were close, very close, as they walked out of sight, just for one precious moment.

 

* * *

 

 

There were others you met, more shinigami and some you had trouble sorting into a category.

  
Before Aizen came to Hueco Mundo you had not met many people that weren’t Hollows. In fact, your only contact to the worlds outside consisted of short trips to the realm of the humans to check on the level of their reiatsu. A shinigami lived in the forest of Menos, as well, but you never met him in person. It was always a pulse of memories and factual knowledge you woke up with as a Hollow.

  
_Out there, there are shinigami. They want you dead._

  
Suddenly there were many of them, with bright clothes or hair and a collective, bustling pressure that scared you and Nelliel to the far edges of the group.

  
“Strange, isn’t it?” she asked and gasped, “All those different people, they’re just-”

  
“Noisy,” you finished her sentence, “Loud and obnoxious and ready to bash in your head.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shinji Hirako was a captain; but he did not introduce himself to you as such.

  
When he joined the group you recognized him immediately as the person who almost crushed you the second time you arrived in Karakura town. Back then their strange, not-Hollow-but-not-human-either masks had haunted you.

  
“Oh,” he said as he saw you and lifted his eyebrows, “It’s you.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Well.”

  
“ _Well_.”

  
It didn’t get any more awkward than that; a Quincy interrupted your ‘conversation’ and put an end to a potential conflict by starting another. It was no member of Yhwach’s elite squad but that came as no surprise. By now the king of all Quincy had started to raise more and more foot soldiers using the corpses of the fallen. Most of them were disfigured beyond recognition, a cross burned into their faces. The wounds dug deep and showed you eyes, nothing but eyes. Below that was the glow of their power, blue and white.

  
“Looks like we’re gonna have to postpone our talk for a while,” Hirako sighed, “Honestly, I’d rather hug it out with you than fight these things, but y’know how it is.”

  
“Tragic,” you said dryly and shifted your hands into claws, “Let’s get this over with, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pantera didn’t speak much as you talked to the strangest people and listened to the kindest; it was insufficient to say that you _learned_. On the most basic of levels that was what happened but you felt it as something different, a deep curiosity and taste for novelty.

  
“You’re making a mistake,” she told you one day as you woke up to realize you had fallen asleep beside some of them, not minding their presence, “You’re letting your guard down.”

  
She was right, of course, she always was. Even the times she exaggerated were never truly lies; just like your denial was never entirely truth.

  
“What am I supposed to do, then?” you asked quietly, only in your head, “Tell me what to do if you hate this so much.”

  
Pantera didn’t reply. She had no answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki was still there among all the others.

  
“You’re alive,” he breathed as he saw his friends again for the first time in a while, “Fuck, I was worried, you assholes.”

  
And his voice hitched as his face lit up, emotional fool that he was. Again you were sure it wasn’t meant for you, that happiness and relief he emitted like another type of reiatsu besides the regular one. Then again, he had never stuck to the rules for as long as you had known him.

  
_Two years, nothing more, nothing less._

 

* * *

 

 

“Rukia’s so strong,” Orihime told you from where she had settled on her back next to you, “She’s amazing.”

  
“Didn’t you get stronger, too?”

  
“You haven’t seen her Bankai. She freezes everything and everyone, she controls the temperature around her. It’s so graceful and deadly.”

  
She continued for hours, wouldn’t have stopped talking for days if she could have. What you had mistaken for jealousy was something else entirely.

  
It didn’t seem strange to you that she sought out your company, either. By now you accepted her desire to befriend everyone in the whole world as incorrigible fact.

  
“I wish I could fight beside her like that,” Orihime said quietly and folded her hands over her chest, “But she freezes everything and everyone.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You are not sleeping again.”

  
Sado searched you out sometimes as if you were still in the desert, as if he didn’t have a brigade of friends walking about he could spend time with.

  
“So?” you asked and lifted your eyebrows, “You gonna sing me to sleep, asshole?”

  
“I don’t think that would work.”

  
You huffed out a laugh and looked away, your anger mellowing already. Sado was always calm but not in a way that only fueled your rage; not condescendingly, not judging.

  
Occasionally the group decided to rest; because they had to with the maze only ever expanding. Weeks could pass like this and without sleep most of them would fail to win even the easiest of fights. Depleted and exhausted all of them agreed to pause and find shelter in enemy territory.

  
“I can’t fucking sleep with a billion Quincy lying in wait to fuck us up,” you said and shrugged, “None of your business.”

  
Sado was quiet and walked up to the edge of the tower you stayed on this time, leaned over the stone railing right beside you.

  
“Would it help if one of us was the one standing guard?” he asked.

  
“ _Us?_ ”

  
“Inoue or me. Nel. One of the people who stayed in Hueco Mundo with you.”

  
You scoffed and avoided his eyes, sitting with your hands resting on your knees. Palms upward, relaxed. To others you had to look serene but your spine was tense and rigid.

  
“Why do you even care about whether or not I am fucking sleeping, huh? Think I won’t try to kill Kurosaki if you’re nice to me?”

  
Sado frowned as if the very idea offended him.

  
“You want to fight Ichigo on equal terms,” he said, “If he agrees to a battle then that is his decision.”

  
“Yeah, right. You’ll all be so fucking happy if I rip his heart out.”

  
Sado smiled and you felt the anger again, that confused and helpless bundle of emotion rising up in your throat.

  
“What’s so fucking funny?” you spat and clenched your hands into fists.

  
“ _If_ ,” Sado said, “You did not say _when_.”

 

* * *

 

Rukia Kuchiki did not freeze you. Her Bankai was incredibly powerful, the look in her eyes alone was enough to sent shivers down an enemy’s spine. Otherworldly, transcending the realm of mortals and immortals alike.

  
“What-” she asked and tried to force the ice and cold back into the shape of a sword, “Why are you here?”

  
“Temperatures don’t matter to us,” you answered and shrugged, “Perks of being a Hollow. I can fight with you and that’s what people want me to do.”

  
Rukia looked at you with wide eyes and they only grew wider as you reached out in her direction. She looked different than before, painted white in her entirety by the cold. It went from the tips of her fingers to the length of her eyelashes; ethereal even for someone like you.

  
The hand she placed on her zanpakuto showed you exactly how much she trusted you- she expected you to strike. Instead you offered your palm to her with the most bored expression you could muster.

  
“You’ll die,” she said and pressed her lips together as if she honestly minded that prospect, “I’ll kill you if I touch you.”

  
“Try me.”

  
Still she hesitated and it didn’t sit right with you; as a shinigami she should not be concerned at all, you were a Hollow. Beyond that you had hurt her and her friends, she should welcome the idea of killing you herself.

  
However, Kurosaki’s friends never really acted the way they were supposed to.

  
So as she continued to stare you took the initiative and took her hand in yours, gingerly. You flinched.

  
“Fuck, okay, yeah, this is fucking cold,” you said and stepped away, clutching your fingers.

  
Rukia seemed at a loss for words. She alternated between staring at your frowning face and your hand as if she had not expected it to still be there.

  
Then she started to laugh, a small and gentle sound. So far all you had seen of her was the stoic exterior, the strict but loyal defender.

  
This was different and a nuisance at that; the more you saw from all these people the more you were forced to realize you didn’t hate them as much as you planned.

  
“Right now I am dead,” she said and clenched her hand into a fist, “Not like that I haven’t died before, but-”

  
“Yeah, it’s fucked up,” you answered gruffly, “Just like a Hollow, huh?”

  
“Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was battle after battle for you but it never felt like it; not as conscious actions. It went by like a dream, was over in a spell. There were so many people who came to help Kurosaki; so many who would follow him and their comrades to the ends of the world.

Of course you had known about this and scoffed at it sufficiently, but it was intriguing to be part of its effort. Like an undertow or a current too strong to withstand it dragged you along with sweet promises and the urgency of impending doom.

  
Hueco Mundo would fall before the Quincy if you did not go, that was all, all you wanted, all that mattered-

  
“You’re lying to yourself,” Pantera said and sounded tired, “I wish you weren’t, because honestly, that’s the things you should think. Instead there’s all this color in here now, all those stupid happy concepts. You’re so naive, Grimmjow.”

  
She was, too and she despised it. But after fighting alongside people who had your back, stupid mistakes or not it felt so shallow, being there to kill. It was who you were; it was what Hueco Mundo needed.

 

* * *

 

 

Sado did not say a word as you walked up to him only to drop down on the ground to sleep.

  
“It’s not like I wanna be here,” you muttered and closed your eyes, “But your damn nagging just got too obnoxious.”

  
Sado hummed a reply, much like you did when you were really pleased. You swallowed your pride and embarrassment.

  
“I-” you began and blamed your words on the exhaustion, “I fucking appreciate it, alright?”

  
Sado laughed, didn’t seem offended. As if he understood.

  
“Alright,” he said.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not like Nnoitra,” Nel said once as she dropped down beside you, fingers slick with blood and limbs weary.

  
“Hm?” you asked, sleepily but still offended, “Duh. That’s pretty damn obvious.”

  
Nnoitra with his giant teeth and gaunt face, those stretched limbs and unhinged jaw. Sometimes you remembered the look he gave you as he walked up to you, dragging Santa Teresa through the sand. He was disgusted by you just as much as you hated him; but his repulsion was motivated by something else. In his particular kind of dismissal lay the implication that you were not the same species, not as Hollow as the other. Nnoitra called your weakness human and your obsession an expression of it; Nnoitra laughed as you stumbled and ignored your insults. _Above you_ was what he thought he was. Now he was part of you in a way, another consciousness drowned out by the survivor. You stood triumphant now without the feeling of victory. Survival was key.

  
“I thought you were,” Nel continued in the here and now and looked over at you, pensive, “Like him, I mean. Fighting for the sake of the fight, not seeing any higher cause behind all of his. Seeing yourself as superior.”

  
“Well, I’m not and I don’t. What’s the problem with that?”

  
Nel took a deep breath and closed her eyes to the stars. Hueco Mundo had not had any, only a black canvas as a sky with the moon emblazoned in it.

  
“I don’t know how we work,” she said and it was a statement with considerable weight, spoken like a true confession, “Hollows. Arrancar. Espada.”

  
You stayed quiet and let her continue because you were not sure what she wanted from you just yet; and you feared she would turn any word you said into something that bred anger. It had been silent for a while, that well of rage, dry for now.

  
“For a long time I thought I was the only one,” Nel told you and smiled wryly, “The only one with feelings or empathy. With something beyond that brand Aizen gave us.”

  
“Brand?”

  
“ _Sacrifice_ ,” she sneered and met your eyes, “ _Destruction_.”

  
Inscribed in your bones, printed on the inside of your skull, pervading the very air you breathed-

  
“She is right,” you said to Pantera and it was a strange first thing to say in your inner world, “Fuck, I hate it when she is right.”

  
“You must have realized it too,” Nel began anew and frowned, “There are so many of us who have similar or the same motivations. You could be rage, too. I could be loneliness. It doesn’t make sense for it to be so limited.”

  
_Espada_ was not something Hollows created. You told her as much.

  
“I always wondered if it wasn’t Aizen who labeled _and_ shaped us through his wishes when he used the Hogyoku.”

  
“His model soldiers.”

  
“Scary, isn’t it? Being made to suit someone else’s needs.”

  
It was not a question she needed answered, the fear was embedded in both your masks and deep down below. It was something no one else would understand; no one who wasn’t Hollow or Arrancar.

  
“See?” Nel said and grinned at you so smugly you barely recognized her, “You’re not like Nnoitra at all.”

  
“Why are you saying that all the damn time?”

  
“Because you could be,” she replied without a hitch, “With what we just discussed, the whole simplicity being a lie and all it would be so easy for you to turn out the same way. But look at you now, all happy and making friends with shinigami.”

  
_Happy?_

  
“Shut up,” you snapped but with little malice.

  
Nel just laughed and punched your shoulder as if your anger was endearing, as if suddenly you worked in a way that you couldn’t have in Hueco Mundo.

  
It had never occurred to you while it happened, all those hours lost to waiting and now finding the king of the Quincy. Nel had fought beside you countless times now. They all had. It just happened, no explanations needed. You worked as a gear in their impeccable machine. Not static or rigid or bound by rules; no, you were still well on your way to going down in flames. It added up, in the end. Wordlessly.

 

* * *

 

 

The higher-ranked shinigami still regarded you with suspicion as if you were going to snap all their necks this late into the game. There was a tall one with spiky hair that looked at you with a strange kind of thirst- at first it was only creepy but with time you recognized his reiatsu as the one that struck down Nnoitra. Someone desperate for a fight, someone seeing the battle itself as the goal.

  
“We need to live,” Pantera said to you, “We aren’t in it for enjoyment.”

  
Then there was the one who replaced the former captain commander; you almost attacked him the first time you met. Hirako showed up just in time, wrapped an arm around your front and pulled you back.

  
“I wasn’t gonna kill him,” you complained and struggled, “Oy, just fucking let me go or I swear I’ll speed this war up by taking your damn head off right here-”

  
“God, Blue, calm the fuck down,” Hirako said. His hand pressed against your chest but that wasn’t the problem. It was the length of his arm that lay against the scar on your shoulder you couldn’t take- not the pain, just the memory of it and someone being so close to you.

  
Your muscles seized. A second passed and you prepared to turn around and tear him apart without another thought; suddenly the touch was gone.

  
“Kyoraku just lost a good friend,” Hirako told you and rolled his eyes at your glare, “Not the best time to piss him off. No matter what he said.”

  
“ _You’re not like the last one I killed_ ,” you repeated his words and the rage was bubbling up between your teeth like hot bile, “Do all of you think this is a fucking joke for us? Do you think it’s fun to be prepared to be killed by your kind every damn day?”

 

* * *

 

 

Aizen laughed as he saw you again.

  
“Oh this is irony, isn’t it?” he asked and smiled from his dark throne, “That you would make it to the Soul King before I did, Grimmjow?”

  
You wanted to punch him in the face but he barely even spared you a second glance, continued to his next victim to keep mocking everyone he hurt so far. There was no moral high ground for you to stand on, no feeling of supremacy.

  
“It’s kinda sad,” Kurosaki said beside you before it was his turn to be insulted, “Seeing that asshole try to get somewhere even like this.”

  
“Nothing sad about it.”

  
“When I fought him all I could feel was loneliness, y’know. As if for some fucked up reason he rejected his own powers because he didn’t want them in the first place.”

  
You grabbed Kurosaki by the collar and resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

  
“That piece of shit made us his slaves and sent us to our deaths,” you hissed, “Have you heard of Harribel? Of the ones who were actually stupid enough to be loyal because there was no other way to go? Do you even-”

  
You stopped yourself in the middle of your sentence because Kurosaki just looked at you, really looked, with something you would have called pity before.

  
Then you let go of him and stepped away, walked out of Aizen’s new throne room. They called it a prison but you knew better; his eyes would follow you outside and back into the desert if you ever returned.

 

* * *

 

 

Orihime waited for the best possible moment to reveal to the others just how much she had improved. Battles passed and she did not get the chance to intervene; you suspected she even let someone save her at some point only to keep them in the dark.

  
Then Lille Barro came upon you in his godlike form, talking to you like you were just specks of inconsiderable dust on the page he wrote on. He was a bird, soaring, a self-proclaimed deity with an impenetrable defense.

  
“A mere shinigami cannot defeat me!” was what he howled from above all of your heads, above the clouds in the Soul King’s sky.

  
“A shinigami’s bankai is useless!” he continued and that was when he dropped two bodies from his claws, two you had barely seen before and wouldn’t mourn. It didn’t mean you laughed.

  
“A Hollow-” Lille Barro began and spread his wings, “A Hollow is full of indentations. Teeth, claws-”

  
You moved before he finished his sentence, twisted out of his sight just as you saw Nel do the same.

  
“ _-bullets_.”

  
The projectiles missed you by an inch- or so you thought.

  
“They never see it coming,” was what the bird-man-bird-god said as the shot ripped through your chest. You winced as it left your body again, slower than it should, flesh giving gently, flesh moving pliantly.

  
A gasp. The pain was minimal, easy to endure. You barely faltered.

  
“A human might be tortured,” you heard from far above, “A human might end with nothing but a-”

  
A pause, a stutter and a scream followed from somewhere else among the houses. With a hole in your chest you barely knew what reiatsu it was that was affected and you had to move again, run and watch and-

  
“ _Help_ them?” Pantera asked and her voice was neutral, “Do you want to help them, Grimmjow? Keep them safe?”

  
And maybe that was a thought buried somewhere deep beneath the others, the idea of maybe, just maybe, preventing them all from dying so that in the end you wouldn’t face the end of the world by yourself. That was Yhwach; and he was so far away from you and the strength you could acquire that even that stubborn pride of yours was not enough to sway you. No, the Quincy king was not yours to kill and that meant keeping the others alive. Compassion was below that, somewhere, enforced by a notion of debt.

  
“Grind, Pantera,” you told her and she obeyed, no movement required, no further command. It was a formality by now and maybe a contract; since you owed her nothing but a question to combine your powers.

  
What you had learned to control was the grade of the transformation; claws and your blade, the human body combined with the spikes on your arms. A Segunda Etapa was still out of your reach but you could modify, adapt, persist.

  
Nel nodded curtly as you reached her, a bloodstain visible on her left sleeve.

  
“I avoided the first one but the others were too fast,” she told you and sighed.

  
“What human did he attack?”

  
“All of them, I think. I thought it was Chad’s reiatsu that wavered.”

  
You stared at her and furrowed your brow, caught far away from the mindset of a war suddenly.

  
“Who the hell is Chad?” you asked.

  
Nel cocked her head and seemed to try and evaluate whether or not you were making fun of her. As she decided on an answer you could tell; it was when she attempted in vain to keep a straight face.

  
“Sado,” she said and her lips twitched wildly, “But I think he is okay. His reiatsu is always so pleasant I never realize he is around before it is too late.”

  
A different voice ripped you from your moment of calm. Reassurance was quickly replaced by dread again, by urgency.

  
“Another human might work differently,” you heard Lille Barro say and both looked up reflexively, “Might fall apart at the slightest touch, a softened, orange glow.”

  
Nel glanced at you and you moved at the same time, up and over the edge of the next building, back into the fray.

  
What you expected were casualties, more blood, more of the shinigami crumbling into dust and the humans gasping around mouthfuls of blood. Carnage was just what a war entailed.

  
Instead you stumbled, sputtered to a halt.

  
“It’s fine,” Orihime said and smiled at everyone who had gathered around her, arriving at the same conclusion as you, “It will be fine.”

  
Slightly obscured by her silhouette was the Quincy, birdlike features grimacing and twisting. It was caught in an orange glow, a complete prison of an energy meant to heal; but also meant to reject. Reality, time- and this Quincy talking of god.

  
Lille Barro dissolved while you were watching, snowflakes, stars, a vortex, a powdery grind.

  
“You don’t have to worry,” Orihime said and there were tears streaming down her face, talking to someone you couldn’t see but also felt no need to. Kill, kill, kill. Corrupt the good soul.

  
She ended the Quincy and they saw her then, maybe for the first time.

 

* * *

 


	24. when

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand including the end of last chapter this is where I went entirely off canon- I'm still bitter and it probably shows a little (a lot).
> 
> No warnings in this chapter except for minor violence. Or maybe Grimmjow making friends. It's self-indulgent but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> And, of course, here he is again, Sternritter D for Drama.

* * *

 

 

“I didn’t want to kill him,” Orihime told you and her hands were shaking, “But I didn’t have a choice and-”

  
“Damn right you didn’t. That asshole would have killed all of your friends if you hadn’t intervened. They should be fucking grateful you deleted that Quincy from existence.”

  
“I’ve never killed anyone before.”

  
“I bet that frosty shinigami told you that you don’t have to kill to be valuable already, so if you think a Hollow’s word isn’t worth shit at least listen to your damn girlfriend.”

  
Orihime blushed bright red at your words and hid her face as if suddenly the balance shifted and so did her priorities. She was one of the strangest people you ever met and you remembered what Loly had called her- a monster. Too kind to fit into a Hollow mind, perhaps naively so.

  
“Rukia would never call me worthless,” Orihime explained and fidgeted, “But-”

  
“But what? Did’ya come here so I would insult you because she won’t?”

  
“No! Of course not, I just thought you might not want to lie to spare my feelings. You can be very honest, Jaegerjaquez-kun.”

  
“Well,” you said and rolled your eyes, “Fuck that. You killed because you had to, none of your friends are blaming you, crisis averted. It isn’t like you ate the bastard.”

  
“Oh no, I don’t think I am ready for that.”

  
Her phrasing struck you as strange and stared at her, lifted an eyebrow, gauged her expression.

  
“It was a joke,” Orihime whispered, embarrassed, “Too morbid?”

  
She seemed relieved as you laughed, crazed and unsteady in pitch.

 

* * *

 

 

Rukia and Orihime grew closer without any of their friends ever noticing until it became too obvious. It was such a slow process, a gradual evolution of friendship to romantic love. Even before the Soul King’s they were supportive of each other, or so you were told. You learned all the important tidbits from people talking out loud to others, from listening where you shouldn’t because your ears were too sensitive and your resting spot too secluded. Sometimes people didn’t realize you were around at all; you watched their reiatsu jerk and fluctuate as you moved and alerted them to your presence.

  
“A human and a shinigami? And they are both women?”

  
“I heard they fought that Quincy commander together and won.”

  
“Isn’t Kuchiki an important heir?”

  
“I think they are just pretending.”

  
It was fascinating how gossip and details of other’s personal relationships still concerned shinigami and humans alike even in times of war. You shrugged most of it off and filed it away somewhere.

  
“I saw them hold hands once,” Hirako told you and his face fell, “Oh, Orihime, my first love, my eternal desire-”

  
A small blonde girl slapped him across the face with her sandal and that was the end of his love confession.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ichigo doesn’t work the way we do,” Yoruichi told you one time, uncharacteristically serious around you, “He doesn’t hate Aizen for what he did. Or maybe he does, but he still sees him as a person and his crimes as something separate.”

  
“Because he has no fucking clue.”

  
She lifted an eyebrow but her question was not meant to make fun of you.

  
“Didn’t you accept his promise of power?”

  
You did. You remembered all too well; seeing the broken masks of your fracciónes and feeling the cold air on your bare human skin for the first time. You remembered craving the strength to fight with a ferocity that sung in your bones and screamed to the stars.

  
“There was no alternative,” you said.

  
“There always is. You could have died.”

  
First you were sure she was joking or making light of your nature- but as you turned to her with fury in your eyes you saw it was different this time.

  
Maybe, just maybe, the _understanding_ went the other way, too.

 

* * *

 

 

Sado was easily overlooked; an irony considering how he towered over almost every one of you. Perhaps it was because he was so quiet- but then Nel began to speak of something else, of a presence so pleasant you did not notice its arrival as any sort of change of intrusion.

  
“When we get home,” Sado said once to both you and no one in particular, “I want to travel the worlds.”

  
“All of them?”

  
“Yes. Hueco Mundo, too. Will you be my guide?”

  
You were taken aback even if you shouldn’t have been. This was not a novelty anymore.

  
“What about Nel? Don’t you think she’d be better suited for that kinda crap?”

  
“I think you’ll do fine.”

  
So sincere, so brutally honest.

  
“Sure,” you said and couldn’t hide your grin, “I should charge for that.”

  
“No, no, you really shouldn’t. Not even in this economy.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How can you stand to be around him for more than five minutes? That guy’s an asshole,” someone said to Kurosaki when they were sure you wouldn’t hear.

  
“He’s like that because he doesn’t trust you. Try not to threaten him every three seconds, okay?” was what Kurosaki answered.

  
“Like he cares.”

  
“You’re all so dense. Of course he does.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes you thought of Harribel and her people; the other Arrancar who lived in Hueco Mundo now with the promise of death still looming over their heads. You had seen the mountain of corpses, you had smelled the burned flesh in the air where the Quincy made sure no one breathed again. Cutting their overseer in half had been so satisfying; with his words in your ear and the memories of his torture.

  
You watched them from afar; how they forced your people to their knees and made them beg for a chance to survive only to cut them down as hope filled their eyes. You despised them so much it hurt; them and their pristine uniforms, the way they spoke to Hollows and Arrancar. To them you were vermin, expendable, disgusting.

  
Harribel was the first and you never forgot the way she fell, struck down by an arrow because they would not even give her a fight.

  
Mila Rose called out to her queen then but you knew there was no use; not in that second, not if she was defeated with such ease.

  
Blonde hair matted with blood, a darker sky rising. It was the beginning of the end. A genesis for fear beyond survival.

  
In the Soul King’s palace you learned that you were not the only one who felt like this; a desperate effort shared by many. So you fought and you ran and you had the sky above Las Noches in mind; a grim future, a home.

 

* * *

 

 

Urahara was always busy passing words of advice to the other members of the group; he was level-headed when he needed to be and drew map after map of the maze you were trapped in, this white-golden city of glass that seemed so small when you watched it from afar. Towering level upon level you walked upon until there was another obstacle. Some came in the form of the architecture, others as Quincy calling out to fight from the rooftops. Some were the group’s own dynamics.

  
“We need to wait before we strike,” Urahara said slowly as if he was talking to a child- repeating for the sixth time what should be obvious, “Every time someone got separated the following fight ended with casualties. The closer we get to Yhwach the less we can afford to lose anyone.”

  
And you had lost some of them already; no one you knew, not one of the people who spoke to you. There was at least one Captain missing and two lieutenants. Some of the remaining shinigami grieved, others hardly even seemed to mind.

  
Urahara came to speak to you after he finished his meeting with those many people who refused to listen to him. They wanted to charge without reason, right into the heart of the matter to make sure the root was exterminated. It wasn’t like you couldn’t relate.

  
“Did any of you ever care?” he asked and sounded tired, “When the other Espada died?”

  
“Starrk cared,” you answered without wasting time on semantics, “Nel might. Most of the others didn’t give a shit what happened to anyone else. We were never friends or actual allies.”

  
“Starrk? The Primera?”

  
“Yep. Horrible Hollow, didn’t know how any of that _evil_ shit worked. If you hadn’t killed him you would have loved him, probably.”

  
“Interesting.”

  
Urahara leaned on his cane and smiled at you, not without the strange ambivalence that came with ever last of his gestures. The worst of all was that you didn’t know if he wanted you dead. Of course there was the deal you struck; looking at the conditions now only solidified your suspicions.

  
“Deep in thought, Espada-san?” he asked serenely. Although he appeared composed you saw the telltale signs of worry; about the war, his friends, the future. Lines on his forehead, deepening.

  
“Why did you make a deal with me?” you asked, exposed, vulnerable. Shawlong always told you that impulsiveness might cause you your head. Regardless, there were questions you couldn’t hold in to save an advantage.

  
Urahara observed you closely as if he was making sure you were really foolish enough to bring this up.

  
“Why, I thought I made my angle quite clear,” he said after taking in your reaction, “I offered you an opportunity and location to have your rematch with Kurosaki and in return you are to help us reclaim the Soul King’s palace. Are you saying you are going back on your word?”

  
Still that calm precision that never once let you believe you had the upper hand in any way. Once more you were reminded of Aizen.

  
“You don’t need me,” you replied and felt like you were falling forward into darkness, “So cut the bullshit already.”

  
“Oh?”

  
An invitation to continue, to tighten the noose around your own neck. There was no way to go but forward.

  
“You have Nel for the Garganta, even if she's not great with them,” you continued and fixed him with your stare if only to prove you saw the challenge and accepted it, “Hell, you have goddamn Kurosaki on your side. The people who killed all top Espada, as well.”

  
“Oh, hush, now, don’t be modest-”

  
“This isn’t about fucking modesty,” you interrupted him, “This is about you making a fake deal with me.”

  
Urahara was still smiling but you could pinpoint the moment his demeanor shifted from the silly and dismissive to the one you saw Aizen in, the two-faced, duplicitous shinigami.

  
“You call Kurosaki our greatest asset,” he trailed off, “Does that mean you admit he is stronger than you?”

  
“We’ll see about that.”

  
He nodded and twirled his cane once, sauntered closer to you.

  
“You accuse me of making a fake deal, Grimmjow,” he said, “But have you ever considered it could also be the other way around?”

  
“What the fuck are you driving at?”

  
“You see,” Urahara began and turned on the spot once with outstretched arms, “All this and all that’s yet to come- didn’t you choose this even before I offered you something in return for it?”

  
At first you didn’t understand what he meant. You followed his gesture with your eyes, examined your surroundings and what you found was debris, reiatsu, the remains of all things _Quincy_. Their true little world.

  
“I didn’t choose to be part of your damn circus troupe,” you said in place of the question you wanted to ask, “That’s bullshit.”

  
“Would you not have come here had it not been for me?” Urahara asked, undeterred, “No, Grimmjow-san, I believe you planned to come here from the very start. Not with us, not to aid us, but to kill the Quincy on your own. What led you here wasn’t my deal or Kurosaki.”

  
Pantera laughed at you and how transparent you apparently were.

  
“So, really, it is you who tricked me into this; giving you the rematch for free in exchange for something that does not require you to change your plans at all,” Urahara continued, “So devious.”

  
“That only means you really had no reason to agree to the terms. What do you gain from this?”

  
“A favor. You owe me now.”

  
It had never occurred to you he would ask for something like this; after all, a favor was based on nothing but the assumption that the other would feel obligated to repay the debt. Either Urahara was very naive or he knew you better than you had suspected.

Someone who read you completely with the first look, someone who would want to brand you.

  
“And I will ask for that favor right away,” he told you and returned to the joking smile, “Make another deal with me, Espada-san.”

 

* * *

 

 

Askin Nakk Le Vaar tried to strike a deal with you as well.

  
Just before your group reached the Soul King’s palace’s innermost buildings you were on your own for a while, desperate for some solitude. The maze grew while you walked, expanded with every pulse of reiatsu from Yhwach himself. He was the centerpiece of it all, the core of this small world he built from the corpse of the old one. Soul Society was his and so was its king.

  
“Wouldn’t it be just terrific if you knew how to approach his majesty without being spotted right away?” was how Askin introduced himself to you again. He looked like he had when you last saw him, a tall wisp of a person.

  
“Think about it,” he said and extended his arms to the sides, “You and your heroic bunch against the villainous forces of the sinister emperor- almost like a fairy tale. It’s a sweet deal, if I may say so myself.”

  
The cero missed his head by a fraction and took away a few strands of his hair.

  
“Come _on_ now, you blue-haired hothead,” he protested and lifted up his hand, sauntering closer, “I am offering a temporary armistice here-”

  
“I can offer to remove more than one of your arms, instead,” you replied and snapped your fingers once, “ _Gran Rey Cero_!”

  
The pillar of light enveloped him, blue lightning strikes screeching to life with a single nod of command. His reiatsu did not vanish but it took a hard blow right away. Force tore even through the thickest of skins and toughest of _blutvene_.

  
“Don’t let your guard down,” Pantera stated and rested her head on her folded front paws, “He isn’t finished yet.”

  
As predicted she was right; the Quincy had chosen a time when you were alone to single you out once more- you had not forgotten your last meeting, the shame that came from being defeated so easily.

  
“I don’t wanna have to sedate you again, uh-” Askin paused in the middle of his sentence while he brushed off his smoking collar, “Grimmjow, was it? I don’t think we have been properly introduced. My name is Askin Nakk Le Vaar, Sternritter, et cetera. You seem like a reasonable fella, I am sure we can set aside our differences and-”

  
He yelped as you attempted to stab your entire hand into his face. If his reflexes had been a little slower he could not have grabbed your hand.

  
“Look at this. It’s only our second encounter and we have come so far,” Askin said and pressed his free hand against his chest, “This is the beginning of a great friendship, I can feel it.”

  
You tried to overpower him but you seemed evenly matched when it came to physical strength. So for a moment you just struggled back and forth, caught in a loop.

  
What finally shifted your balance was Askin placing a hand on your waist. The touch was so unexpected you didn’t even know what to do about it- especially not as he spun you around as if you were dancing. You lost your footing, stumbled, fell.

  
Your back hit the ground and you stared up at him with a kind of fear that was utterly new to you. Too strange, too many implications you didn’t understand. A lack of experience with intimacy and the feeling of another person so close by that their weight was a solid warm pressure.

  
Before coming to the Soul King’s palace you would not even have given it any thought, but things were changing and your skin felt too small for you whenever someone insinuated things beyond what you knew about yourself.

  
“It doesn’t matter,” Pantera shushed you every time, “You don’t need to know. You don’t need to-”

  
“Well that went different than expected,” Askin commented, squeezing your hand, “Would be grand if we had more time. Too bad there is a war going on and I have business to take care of first.”

  
“Yeah, like fucking dying right here.”

  
He put up surprisingly little resistance as you shoved him, effectively reversing your positions.

  
The blade pressing against his throat seemed to finally get it through to him you were still about to kill him. Only his _blut_ saved him from getting decapitated before he could stop Pantera with his hand.

  
“Whoa, look, Grimmjow, we can work this out-”

  
“Can you shut the fuck up for a damn second?” you snapped and shifted, your legs on either side of his hips.

  
Interestingly enough, he could shut up.

  
“What’s that shit about a deal?” you asked and applied more pressure to his trachea, “Why the hell would you want to betray your people?”

  
Blood seeped from the first cut.

  
“It was a pretty easy choice, to be honest with you,” Askin said and shrugged, “Because, you see, being used as a remote bloodbag for a tentacle king isn’t all that amazing if you give it some serious thought.”

  
“ _Tentacles_?”

  
“You should have been there. Truly only a face a mother could love. Sadly, he doesn’t have one. A mother, I mean. He does have a face. Or rather, he had, before it was covered in leeches-”

  
And as he kept talking you realized what he was doing- nervous habits, an animal backed into a corner with the threat of an entire empire in front of it.

  
The Quincy got scared in his high castle, shivered and trembled in a uniform bleached white. The cross in the sky, the emperor watching.

  
“What’s the deal?” you said, “What do you want from me?”

 

* * *

 


	25. after all this time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a little violence! 
> 
> In this we make a bit of progression towards the "sexuality and gender hcs" I tagged, that'll come into focus v v soon.
> 
> also thanks for everyone who is supporting this, quietly or not, I couldn't do this without you! (a rare hint of sincerity from the author)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rukia stopped you as you caught up to the group again.

  
“I sensed a strong reiatsu close to where you came from,” she said and looked you up and down, “Did you defeat them?”

  
“What the fuck do you think?” you replied, “D’you think they’d just let me go because I asked nicely?”

  
“Oh, so it is a foregone conclusion you would have lost and needed their mercy?” she asked and smirked with the confidence of someone who knew their loved ones were safe and sound; for now.

  
“Shut up.”

  
“Come on, Espada,” Rukia said, “They won’t wait forever.”

  
While you followed her it was easy to match her flash step with your sonido; but you realized she was not rushing to get away from you. Her reiatsu was a white flame before your inner vision. Warmer than you expected. She was not afraid.

  
“Orihime cares about you,” was what Rukia told you as you were crossing a square drenched in blood and rubble, “So you better not disappoint her.”

  
“Noted.”

  
Pleasant surprise was visible on her face for merely a moment before she turned back to the road ahead. There was no discussion needed; it was too late for denial in both of your cases.

  
Battles had taken place wherever you looked; the reishi was so dense it became harder to breathe the further along you moved.

  
“We’re getting closer to the end of all this,” Rukia said and you followed her gaze down to the remains of one of the Quincy’s foot soldiers, cross burned into their face, limbs bent at unnatural angles.

  
“You mean closer to killing the last of them.”

  
“Maybe,” she replied sternly, “Maybe not. Some of them helped us earlier. They might be dead by now.”

  
“Figures.”

  
“And then there is-” Rukia began and averted her eyes, “Nevermind.”

  
You knew who she meant. The one who had been their friend and now stood high on the castle with his weapon aimed at them.

 

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki didn’t enjoy being physically close to people. It was an observation you made early on when all his friends went on a hugging spree whenever they met. He was not any less happy than them, but he kept his distance and they all respected it. It made you curious; about how humans differed in their definition of closeness. After all their talk of friendship and trust it did not add up for him to react like this.

  
Then he was shot in the back by an array of arrows. His eyes bulged out of his skull, his coughs were wet and raspy. He collapsed before he had any time to feel betrayed. His friend, the Quincy, stood over him and shrugged it off as if he had crushed a fly.

  
Kurosaki had hesitated to kill someone he valued like this, one second of kindness too much to step away and avoid the mechanism that felled him.

  
You were not the only one around for their fight but you were the first to attack the Quincy. He was so slow to react it became apparent he was affected by what he did; it did not help him as you stabbed your claws into him, sharp like daggers, Desgarrón shooting out as blast of lights. Your strongest technique was just a simple trick now, faster than sound.

  
“Ishida-kun!” you heard Orihime yell but you had no regret. That was until the ground of the room collapsed and the feeling of flesh giving underneath your fingertips dissipated.

  
The Quincy prince tried to fire another arrow at you but you broke his arm without a second thought, wrenched the limb upward until it cracked.

  
You were going to break your fall, a thought on your mind as clear as the light of day in a world unlike yours.

  
Kurosaki was falling, too, a lifeless puppet plummeting down far below. His cloak fluttered and you could smell the blood even from far away.

  
Above the noises of a second battle erupted, a trap to lure the strongest of your group in and then get rid of the rest of you.

  
The Quincy’s eyes were on you and you scowled at him before you let yourself drop.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Ishida is a stuck-up idiot,” was how Hirako began his explanation a while back, way before you even got close enough to the Quincy prince’s hideout to determine the strength of his reiatsu. He used the insult like a term of endearment._

  
_“I went to school with Kurosaki and his bunch for a while, right about that time when you showed up to capture Orihime. Ishida was just your regular prissy Quincy kid back then.”_

  
_It was not one of your favorite memories but Hirako grinned at you like he remembered it fondly, a walk on the beach instead of a fight._

  
_“So now he’s loyal to his majesty and wants all his friends dead?” you asked and snorted._

  
_Hirako shrugged._

  
_“Ichigo still thinks he is just pretending and will come around before all this is over, but no one can really says what’s gonna happen. That’s life.”_

  
_He posed exaggeratedly with the back of his hand pressed against his forehead before he reached out and punched one of the advancing Quincy in the face._

  
_You rolled your eyes at him._

  
_“Whatever.”_

  
_“Oy, you asked for a short version.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re heavier than you look,” you muttered into Kurosaki’s hair and tried in vain to shift so the strands didn’t fall into your face.

  
His lifeless body leaned onto your shoulder, smearing his blood against your side.

  
“Fuck you for making me do this.”

  
His limp left arm was wrapped around you but it didn’t quite work as well as you had planned. Kurosaki was too out of it to carry his own weight even to some extent. The wounds should not have been such a problem by themselves but the Quincy liked to use techniques to paralyze or sedate their enemies. Thinking back to being poisoned you shuddered and so did Kurosaki, slack in your hold.

  
“Bastard,” you spat and slowed down, among the ruin, among the rubble. You dropped him unceremoniously and rolled your shoulders. Then you reached down again to heave him up and fling him over onto your back.

  
“Fucking nuisance.”

  
Kurosaki’s chest was pressed flat against your spine and his chin rested on your shoulder. You felt his arms as they flopped against your sides, bounced uselessly because he had no control over them. An empty vessel now, as much Kurosaki as the air around you.

  
He was still very, very warm. A heater stuck to you. A sun.

  
“God, you’re so disgustingly taken with that bastard,” Pantera commented, “You don’t even know what that means and you are.”

  
You wanted to bite back, tell her to shut up already. The body on your back stirred and distracted you. It wasn’t enough of a shock to wrench your head around and stare at Kurosaki; yet you flinched as he exhaled an unsteady breath right next to your sensitive ears. The sound was louder than it had any right to be.

  
Kurosaki’s legs tensed in your grasp.

  
“What’s going on?” he slurred and his head lolled against your shoulder blade.

  
“You fell off the damn tower,” you explained, “Because you didn’t want to injure your precious friend who was literally stabbing you in the back. Multiple times. So you crashed down here into this piece of shit of a place and now we’re back at the damn beginning, _all for naught_ , the absolute worst. As you can probably tell there is fuck all down here and since you, princess, have not been in any damn condition to walk on your own-”

  
“Grimmjow?” Kurosaki asked. His voice was strangely soft; not the gentle tone he used with some of his friends but something more feeble than that.

  
“Are you crying?” you asked incredulously and tried to look at him to check, “I swear if you start fucking crying now-”

  
“I’m not crying,” Kurosaki interrupted you. It shut you up quickly, the seriousness in his voice and the way he still rested his head on your shoulder.

  
“Can you-” you began and gathered yourself to sound more pissed and less confused, “Can you walk?”

  
_Or do I have to keep dragging you around_ , you wanted to say. The words never passed your lips.

  
Kurosaki stayed quiet for a moment and you wondered if there was something you were meant to do or say in such a scenario; not because you felt the need to comfort him. Since you were the only one around it seemed like it was expected of you.

  
“Can you just,” he said and cleared his throat, “Keep going for a bit?”

  
“I’m not your personal servant, y’know. ‘m not even on your damn side.”

  
“What if I say please?” Kurosaki asked and if he hadn’t sounded so exhausted you would have thrown right into the next pile of rubble. He had to recover from his wounds; you needed to make sure of that and get him where he needed to be in order to defeat Yhwach. It was more important than a grudge.

  
_Grudge_ was a good word. It sounded just as angry and persistent as you wanted. Never letting up, not with their flesh between your teeth. Keep them down until they died, until they stopped, until they could no longer hurt.

  
So you walked on with him on your back. It should have felt stranger than it did, but you buried all uncertainties deep in the surface of your inner world. Pantera approved; the instinct always pleased her, the intuitive choices. Denial, as well.

  
“So Ishida really attacked me, huh?” Kurosaki asked and you were abruptly tugged back into reality and the continuous iteration of patterns in the ground before you. Two tiles laid out vertically, four horizontally. Over and over into eternity.

  
“Those injuries not real enough for you?” you asked and sneered, “Didn’t even hesitate.”

  
“Huh.”

  
_“Huh.”_

  
He fell silent again and this time his body molded fully against the tense line of your spine. So close, not even a hair’s width apart. His heart beat against your back.

  
“I stabbed him once, too,” Kurosaki said, “Ishida, I mean. When I was fighting Ulquiorra.”

  
You let him continue wordlessly since there was not much you could say even if you had wanted to; you were there as he fought the fourth Espada, down below lying crippled and weakened.

  
“I lost control of my powers after he tore a hole into my chest,” Kurosaki told you, “I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to protect my friends at all costs but I had no idea how and I was dying and-”

  
He took a deep breath and coughed as if the wounds on his back just now caught up to him.

  
“I think I became a Vasto Lorde.”

  
It was a statement that rattled you and you faltered for a second before you could catch yourself showing such a simple weakness. _Vasto Lorde_ had been your sky for a long time, your life, your god. The only way out of Hueco Mundo and its grinding gears.

The power to hold the world in your hand like the heaven did the moon.

  
And Kurosaki didn’t even fucking want it.

  
“I don’t even remember what happened, what I did,” he continued as if compelled to, as if the story developed its own drive and made him tell it against his will.

  
“I know that when I woke up Ulquiorra had lost an arm and a leg,” he said.

  
“He was falling apart,” he said and swallowed.

  
“Ishida was just sitting there,“ he said and swallowed and exhaled another breath so shaky you thought he was going to fade away right underneath your fingers, “With Zangetsu stuck in his chest.”

  
Pantera was trying to mock him for denouncing his victory but she couldn’t continue her facade for very long; because even if she tried to be the feral one of you, the voice of survival itself, she was still part of you. She still shared your doubts.

  
“I don’t even know why it still fucks me up so bad,” Kurosaki said and laughed nervously, “I don’t know why I am even telling you this at all, I just-”

  
“Losing control.”

  
He froze, his fingertips digging into your collarbones.

  
“What?”

  
“What fucks you up about is it that you lost control and killed someone, obviously,” you growled, “Or hurt your friends or whatever. If you had chosen to kill someone you would have known how to handle it.”

  
“I did, y’know, kill someone. Apart from Ulquiorra.”

  
You had heard the story from Urahara; one of those you overheard as he spoke to Nel. He never tried to keep it silent and you suspected he knew you were just as interested.

  
You let Kurosaki talk anyway because-

  
And if you were honest with yourself you knew there was no satisfying reason. You let him do it because he was Kurosaki, because you didn’t understand him and somehow started to want to.

  
So he told you the story of the Fullbringers and a man named Ginjo who drew him in with his words and the promise of power. The way he described it was slightly off but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It sounded like there was more to the betrayal than he let on; as if the trust or promises ran deeper.

  
“I can walk on my own now,” he said after a while right as he was about to kill the other substitute shinigami, “You must be really damn bored by now.”

  
“Falling asleep here,” you replied dryly and let go of his legs to watch him tumble to the ground, _“Oops.”_

  
Kurosaki flipped you off and got up with some difficulty, a palm pressed against his side. After taking a single step he stumbled again.

  
“Fuck, what was in those arrows?” you asked as he grasped your shoulder to steady himself, “Did he, uh, drug you or something?”

  
Szayel had conducted experiments with minor Arrancar and the occasional Espada and some of his serums had the ability to completely annihilate an enemy from within. One of the shinigami was similar to that; but you stayed away from him. You had felt his reiatsu as he scoured the sands of Hueco Mundo for new specimen. All of them were dead now; dead again after being pulled around like puppets. Cirucci choked on her own swollen tongue.

  
“I don’t know what he did,” Kurosaki said and ended another of your streams of consciousness with ease.

  
You returned to the plan you had in the beginning, let him lean on you but walk on his own. He tensed completely as you touched him.

  
“Look, obviously you don’t wanna fucking cuddle or some shit but I’m not dragging your stupid ass back up there by the collar,” you said.

  
“That’s not it.”

  
“Damn right it isn’t, that isn’t fucking happening.”

  
“No, idiot, I just don’t do the whole hugging thing,” Kurosaki mumbled and tensed further, wound so tightly you thought he was gonna keel over just to get away.

  
“Didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”

  
“That was different, I couldn’t even move on my own then. Now it’s just-”

  
“Isn’t that some basic human crap? Isn’t like I am asking you to fuck me or some shit, Kurosaki, I don’t know how that’s a big deal.”

  
Even while you spoke you knew it would piss him off- and maybe that was the reason you finished the sentence at all. Seeing a reaction. Getting an explanation without having to ask.

  
“Yeah, didn’t think you’d care,” he said and snorted, “Or know anything about that.”

  
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  
“Not everyone is like you said,” Kurosaki started, “Not everybody wants all kinds of affection from everyone. Not in the same fashion or at the same time, as well.”

  
It was another story he told you and one you never thought he would share with you.

  
_Equals._

  
It scared you that you began to understand.

 

* * *

 


	26. they had a sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know what I like?  
> Gore.  
> There is no gore in this one, though. 
> 
> Y'know what I also like?  
> Asexual Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

* * *

 

 

“How many Garganta did you have to open to get up here again?” Nel asked and touched your shoulder, “You look like hell.”

  
You rolled on your back with a groan.

  
“Stopped counting. Isn’t like I could have jumped all the way up here.”

  
“Yeah. It could have been a trap.”

  
You nodded and looked over to the rest of the group. They were still mostly alive and well, reunited after the last trap scattered them around the tower.

  
You were getting closer to the end now, to Yhwach and the last of his defenses. Kurosaki was injured but well-rested and with Orihime’s help it would only be a matter of time before he was ready for battle again.

 

“You should sleep,” Nel said to you and looked over her shoulder, “We aren’t going anywhere before Ichigo is healed.”

  
You wanted to protest but your head felt like cotton, shapeless. Some of the blood had gotten on your skin and now the Quincy’s sedative was taking effect. Unlike Askin’s it was not as aggressive, a more gradual descent.

  
“Are they gonna stab me for trying to kill Kurosaki’s friend?” you muttered and dropped to your side.

  
“I don’t know,” Nel answered, “I’ll wake you before they try anything.”

  
You bumped the knuckles of your hand against her knee. A small sign of appreciation, the only you could manage.

  
“Just want this shit to be over.”

  
“Yeah,” she said, “Me too. I want to help Harribel and her fracciónes. I want to be able to explore the worlds. Walk a single step without expecting to fall into a trap again.”

  
Nel brushed her thumb over the knuckles of your hand. The respect was mutual. _Hollows_ in the truest sense of the word; allies now and in the name of Hueco Mundo.

 

* * *

 

 

“They said he can see the future,” you growled and grabbed Askin by the collar, shoved him up against a brittle wall, “Then why the fuck does he not see you betraying him, huh?”

  
Askin seemed strangely calm for someone who was being threatened, the bored look in his eyes only overshadowed by his amusement. Sometimes his fear manifested as the calm of a creature that didn’t mean a thing to the universe as a whole.

  
“Yhwach might call himself the Almighty, but that is a bit of an exaggeration,” he replied and carefully pried your fingers off his cloak, “He cannot _hope_ to see the future of the entire world. Not even in his new Wahrwelt.”

  
“How can you know that?”

  
“Because I tested it,” Askin said and shrugged, “I had time, you see. A lot of time on my hands and a castle to escape from. There are blind spots in every vision.”

  
It didn’t satisfy you; not at all. There were so many questions left unanswered, so many opportunities for a self-proclaimed god to kill a soldier as insignificant as this.

  
“What blind spots?” you asked, “And how the fuck can you be sure he hasn’t grown stronger since he ate the goddamn Soul King?”

  
Askin narrowed his eyes and you wondered if this was all a bluff, if he was here on borrowed time hoping to get out before someone tried to stop him. So close to the exit, that terrified mouse running away.

  
“Yhwach has trouble seeing the future when several Sternritter use their Schrift at once,” he explained, “I never stopped mine.”

  
“That doesn’t-”

  
“He is busy right now,” Askin interrupted you and slowly pushed you backwards, away from him, his fingertips close to your collarbone, “Yhwach is preoccupied and Haschwalth wants to catch the newbie betraying him so badly he barely has eyes for the world around him.”

  
“You’re not even fucking sure, are you?” you responded and shook your head, grimaced, “Fuck, how desperate are you to bet it all on the possibility that he _might_ not catch you?”

  
Askin smiled, still anxious, still frightened. Not by you.

  
“ _Leeches_ ,” was all he said, gesturing at his eyes, “All over his face. He wants people dead, Grimmjow, all of you and all of us. He will never let this war end.”

  
“Bit late to figure that one out, huh?”

  
“I’m not above admitting I am at fault,” Askin replied, “I don’t like to hide behind cheap excuses. So yes, I did misjudge the situation and yes, that realization came a little too late.”

  
His honesty stunned you into silence.

  
“You get it, don’t you?” he asked, “Interesting. So you have a lot more going for you than just amazing legs. I suppose I did make the right choice, then.”

  
His curiosity unnerved you, as if his kind was not trying to destroy every last of the abominations they saw you as. You ignored the compliment entirely, forced your mind away from that train of thought. Quincy were trouble. You couldn’t-

  
“Why the fuck should I trust you?” you said.

  
“I assume a friendly smile could not convince you?” Askin replied and chuckled as you scowled immediately, “Thought so. Still, you are here, listening. That is all I asked for and all you offered for now. Consider my deal and I will make sure you and all your friends have all the insight you could ever wish for.”

  
“That doesn’t answer my damn question.”

  
“Then _don’t_ trust me. Trust whatever else there is for you,” he countered and casually reached to brush some debris off your shoulders, “That Kurosaki kid. Any of the others. They’ll bail you out if I screw you over, won’t they?”

  
You looked down at his hands, noted he was very close to you. It had not been part of your plan as you came to confront him, but grabbing him had automatically bridged the distance between you.

  
“That’s not reassuring,” you growled and took a step back out of his personal space, your head spinning.

  
Askin lifted an eyebrow.

  
“I don’t know what else to tell you. If I swear to serve you loyally to my dying breath that would be both a little early and unbelievable,” he said and smiled serenely, “I’m not going to beg you, either. If you decide against it I will take my leave right now.”

  
“They won’t let you get far.”

  
“Oh my, I didn’t expect you to worry so quickly,” Askin said and batted his eyelashes, “In all seriousness, I’m not expecting you to propose right away, all I want is a way out of this situation that does not involve me dying in a horrific fashion. Is that so difficult to believe?”

  
Pantera wasn’t happy about the answer you gave him.

  
“No, I get that,” you said.

  
Askin still smiled, close as he was.

 

* * *

 

 

“What you said about people not wanting different kinds of affection,” you whispered and cleared your throat, shifted nervously, “What did you mean by that?”

  
Kurosaki seemed surprised you came to talk to him on your own; especially like this, in the middle of the palace’s night with few lights to guide your way.

  
“Huh?” he asked sleepily, “Grimmjow, what are you-”

  
“Oh, just forget it,” you interrupted him, a low growl twitching alive beneath your tongue. Hectic, restless, embarrassed.

  
You jumped to your feet again and turned to walk away; but as it happened so often in these situations, someone stopped you.

  
“No, wait, I was just-” Kurosaki said and yawned audibly, “I was basically asleep. Come back here.”

  
You did, reluctantly, because the curiosity and nagging fear were stronger than you thought. In the dark he couldn’t see you and it calmed you to know that included the blush on your face. It was incomprehensible, that novel feeling of shame that arose when your confusion peaked and crashed down.

  
Kurosaki was still mumbling half-hearted curses under his breath as you lowered yourself to the ground just close enough to him. However, even if he was clearly disgruntled about being woken up he did not make fun of you. It was annoying how easily he knew what to do or say- as if he had been in this exact situation before.

  
“So did I get that right?” he asked and yawned again, “You want to know what I meant when we talked about the hugging and all?”

  
As he said it out loud you felt even more foolish, even less like this was a valid concern. It suddenly seemed more logical to bottle up all doubts and ignore you ever questioned yourself; because this was silly and weakness and-

  
“I just want to make sure I didn’t misinterpret,” Kurosaki explained, “So is that what you meant?”

  
You just nodded, hoped he could identify the movement as a gesture of agreement in the dark. Being a Hollow made it easy for you to see; you watched him squint and frown as if he had trouble seeing you at all.

  
“You wanna take a walk?” he asked and surprised you.

  
“Huh?”

  
“To have some privacy, dumbass.”

  
For a weird, terrifying second you thought he was going to take your hand, as if that was something the two of you could do, as if that was of any concern during wartime and beyond.

  
He didn’t. He gestured you to follow him instead, still looking tired.

  
“Honestly, I didn’t expect to have this kinda talk with you,” Kurosaki laughed with his hands in his pockets, “And I have no idea where to start.”

  
You walked beside him, careful steps and always watching his expression. Calm, now. Amused. The fanatic search for pity or something mocking kept you from offering him any sarcastic comebacks. A hint of concern.

  
“Grimmjow?” he asked and stopped, in the middle of a ruined building with a ceiling burst open after a battle.

  
“Hm?”

  
“I don’t wanna be a dick about this, but I can’t read your mind, y’know?” he told you and smiled lopsidedly, “Like, I’m not doubting your intentions or anything, but I’m kinda lost here.”

  
The Soul King’s palace was quiet at night, even with the Quincy prowling and a fight around every corner. You looked up into the sky, to your side, past his head into the darkness.

  
“I thought you humans were all about that touchy-feely shit,” you said and shrugged.

  
Kurosaki looked at you strangely as if you were missing out on a joke that was obvious to everyone else around. Foolish. Still no pity.

  
“Have you ever liked someone?” he asked you.

  
For a second you were not even sure what he meant, taken off guard by the question and its different interpretations. A sense of dread wormed its way through the hollow of your skull, the second set of teeth only to break free and cleave your flesh.

  
“What does that have to do with anything?” you snapped.

  
“I don’t know how it works for Hollows,” Kurosaki admitted and extinguished your anger before it ever fully flared, “But there are humans who don’t like physical affection in any shape or form unless they have a strong emotional bond with another person.”

  
You knew that. He had said so before. You let him continue.

  
“That goes for anything sexual, too. Some people never experience that form of attraction at all and that’s fine, too.”

  
You couldn’t get your mouth to work. Against your will you remembered instances where your fellow Espada joked about your obsession; about your motives, your violence, your destruction.

  
_“Gonna show him who is the real_ king _, huh, Grimmjow? Gonna get him on his knees before he even knows how to run.”_

  
You didn’t choke on your tongue or the air or the thought itself; but it wrapped itself around your mind and squeezed down like a snake, constricting ever tighter until you gave in to the pressure.

  
“So what-” you managed to say and coughed loudly, “So what are you?”

  
Kurosaki shifted from one leg to another.

  
”Not sure,” he revealed, “I read up on a lot of stuff and I think I might be asexual and, uh, demiromantic. So, basically, not into sex and the other stuff not, um, casually. I need to be really close to people to want to date them, basically. I guess that’s also kind of what you were asking about with the touching thing, that’s part of it for me. Might be different for other people but hey, what do I know?”

  
The words sounded strange and you violently stifled the urge to repeat them out loud to make them more familiar. Force them into shapes you knew.

  
“I can’t believe I told you that,” Kurosaki mumbled before you had the chance to miss an opportunity for a comment, “I don’t really-”

  
“Don’t really _what_? Think a Hollow can understand this shit?”

  
“You really want to see something insulting in everything I say,” Kurosaki said and rolled his eyes, “No, I just haven’t told a lot of people about this. Don’t tell me you expected to hear this sorta thing when you joined the war?”

  
“Not really.”

  
He cocked his head, his eyes kind even as he frowned.

  
“Why do you want to know about this, anyway?”

  
With every second that you didn’t reply it became more obvious; how his words resonated with you and the denial wasn’t enough to pretend your kind didn’t have that sort of function.

  
Dismissive answers were an option, as if anything short of shouting it from the rooftops was ambiguous. Denial sounded appealing, too.

  
“Curiosity,” you said and shrugged it off, a lie as good as any other, “Trying to figure out all the shit you humans come up with.”

  
“You know, I said I wasn’t gonna be a dick about this,” Kurosaki countered immediately, “And I am not going back on that now. But honestly, I know it’s weird, I know you don’t want to hear this from me of all people, but just take your time figuring it out for yourself. I mean, there’s a war going on right now so you don’t have to come up with an answer anytime soon, you got all the time in the world to see if you are-”

  
“Don’t fucking say it.”

  
Kurosaki startled and you almost felt bad. Almost.

  
You expected him to stay like he did before, surprised and calm about the whole thing.

  
Instead he smirked at you, so smug you were ready to punch it right off again.

  
“You can pretend to be disinterested all you want,” he said, “But don’t forget who dragged me out of my shitty stone bed in the middle of the night to hear about asexuality.”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“Keep it, Grimmjow,” he replied and shook his head, “ And all jokes aside, it’s not a problem, okay? You don’t even have to label yourself at all if that’s not what you want. Rukia’s bi and doesn’t really use that word ever, Inoue’s still torn between stuff. Don’t ask me about Chad, he will answer with a shrug. So honestly, it’s all good no matter what you decide on-”

  
It would be so easy to fall back into the same pattern and repeat your threat, make good on it, think of a new one. But you were tired and still confused.

  
It wasn’t like you didn’t know it couldn’t be a priority for you at the moment but the thought of _what is wrong with me_ was nagging and undeterred. With every time you considered it there was another facet to it, another emotion welling up as if you could no longer keep them all controlled. Saying it was a human condition, a weakness, a disadvantage was too naive; no, Hollows were not exempt.

  
Deep down you even knew what the answer would be; why the shinigami’s taunts made no sense to you and why you felt the need to throw up someone insinuated there was something you should want, something you needed to be complete.

  
“Fuck,” you said quietly and your face burned in the cool air, “No, I- I don’t know.”

  
“You don’t have to know anything right away. You don’t even have to tell me if you do. I mean, you still have to kill me and all, right?”

  
It was such a strange question despite the obvious glint of amusement in his eyes. You watched him watch you. No pity. Fondness.

  
“Oh no,” Pantera said and her claws scratched across the raw surface of your inner world, “You’re not actually considering it, are you?”

  
“Tell me more,” you demanded brusquely and completely ignored your zanpakuto because she was just warning you; like she had so many times before. It was too late for that.

  
Kurosaki grinned at you but he was not smug, just amused.

  
“Sure,” he said, “If you want.”

  
“If you tell anyone-”

  
“I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

You studied the way they fought, all of them, and judged them as you saw fit. Some bored you endlessly- those with brute strength or nothing but trickery. What interested you was skill, were those among Kurosaki’s many friends that could offer you a challenge.

  
Orihime fought like she was dancing, a swirling orange storm. At first you didn’t understand why she had no consistent fighting style, why she chose to slip from one form into another as she protected and cut all at once. You never saw her kill again.

  
“You’re doing well,” Yoruichi told her once and sounded proud and protective in equal measure, “But don’t let this determine your worth. You were strong before you could kill.”

  
Orihime thanked her with a smile.

  
The next time she fought you saw what she was doing, who had helped her develop all her techniques. She scattered her powers like petals, shaped them like a saw, wrapped it around her foes like a prison of ice. How very like her, finding inspiration in others and creating a new kind of strength. You wondered if you were in there, too, if she had taken anything from your fights.

  
Rukia worked well with her even before you were sure they were in love; they had each other’s backs and knew instinctively when to strike and when to leave an enemy to their partner.

  
The ones who worked well with you were Hirako, Nel, Yoruichi and Sado. Considerate enough to take your movements into account and flexible in their fighting style to adapt to your speed. Pantera approved of it, of their strength and the possibility of fighting them at a later time.

  
Kurosaki was there too, of course, but you butted heads a lot and it was too reminiscent of a different war for a while. Fighting him took all your attention, a mixture of anxiety and excitement that riled you up so much you bounced on your heels.

  
“Like a kid,” Hirako laughed at you once, “I can’t believe Aizen thought you were there for his mission for even a second.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here until the end of the flashback I will probably take a bit more time between chapters than a week to make sure I finish part 3 before I start posting it, hope y'all understand and stay hyped for more of this vague trashland :DD


	27. and you had nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more "Grimmjow is learning" time. "Others are learning", too, though.
> 
> No warnings again, I think? It's about time we get back to the "terrible and everlasting mutilation" or y'all might get bored! >:D
> 
> EDIT: I changed a few lines in the third scene, added another few. Why? Because I realized it might be misinterpreted otherwise. (even my edits are vague omg)

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi kept an eye on you all throughout the battles; firstly because you were needed still and secondly because she was wary of your intentions. You had no interest in convincing her you were trustworthy; that was not what you were here for.

  
“We’re here to win,” Pantera whispered to you more often than not, “To destroy those Quincy and come out alive.”

  
“The fuck are you following me for?” you asked Yoruichi during one of the nights you walked away from their group, needing the distance to calm.

  
She emerged from her hiding spot and shrugged, that smug grin always on her face. You knew better than to underestimate her; you had seen her in her godlike form, sending beams of divine lightning down to eradicate everyone around her. Yoruichi trained you, as well; there was a reason you accepted her commands without too many complaints. It was less a question of her strength but rather of her proficiency- she had a plan and you knew it would work. A peculiar form of trust.

  
“I was just out for a stroll,” she teased you now, “It’s such a great view up here. Or maybe it is the cat in us that seeks out high places, hm?”

  
“Cut the crap. Do you think I’ll run off or fuck you over? What’s the damn surveillance about?”

  
Yoruichi cocked her head and her smirk faltered just the slightest bit. Around you, the world expanded once more, darkened skies, endless rows of palace halls forming a maze.

  
“You were targeted twice now,” she said, “You might not even have noticed but the Quincy really want you Hollows dead. So far we have not determined why that is but if there is any chance your presence can improve our chances then I will personally make sure you don’t get killed.”

  
“I can take care of myself.”

  
“No one can, not out here,” Yoruichi countered and flicked your chin, stepped out of your range before you could attack, “Your pride is embarrassing, Blue. Drop it and help us make it out alive.”

  
_A little faster_ , was what she told you while you were training time and time again, _I don’t care if you’re embarrassed to hear it. You need to use it to your advantage._

  
“I have,” you snapped now, “I’ve helped you since I sliced that Quincy in half. I’ll see this through to the end, no matter if you follow me or not.”

  
“We will. There’s just one way to go. Up ahead is the end of the world, Blue. No one can just watch and wait now.”

  
It was nothing that warranted an answer; nothing that required you to refute or confirm her idea. This wasn’t a thesis and the war not something decided on paper; this was a war and it lived in every narrow street and every breath you stole from the enemy’s lungs.

  
Yoruichi sighed and her stern expression smoothed down into exhaustion- she sat down with her legs crossed and invited you to join her by patting the space next to her softly. Curiosity got the better of you and you carefully lowered yourself to the ground at her side.

  
“Kisuke saw all of this coming,” she told you and sighed again “That’s why you’re here. That’s why any of us are here, he anticipated a war way before anyone else.”

  
“Good for him,” you growled, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  
“You’re tired of following orders. I’m tired of giving them.”

  
Yoruichi stretched her arms above her head until her joints cracked. Even in the dark the tense line of her shoulders was visible; you could appreciate the raw physical strength she had accumulated over time. A war machine, a brute fighter. It suited her well, with the speed of her moves and the wit at the tip of her tongue.

  
“I never really liked Soul Society,” she said and surprised you, “All those rules and stiff regulations. But it was a home and the ideals were decent.”

  
Turning to you she continued.

  
“I _get_ it, Blue, you and your people hate our guts and that’s fine. But right now we need some trust, y’know.”

  
“Whatever.”

  
“Nel’s so much sweeter than you, she was all happy to get trained and help us out.”

  
It was a joke; or at least half of it. You had seen them practice and watched as Yoruichi forced Gamuza into a corner, forced her to move faster until even the heavy bulk of her body turned into a mobile fortress rather than a static one. There was no way they underestimated each other.

  
“What will you do if we win this war?” Yoruichi asked you now. Eyes calculating, forcing your spine on the outside to measure its strength.

  
_If_ ; never when.

  
“Why are you asking me all this now?” you countered and frowned, “Don’t you have better things to do?”

  
“You’re clever, Blue,” Yoruichi said and it did not sound like a compliment, “You hide your reiatsu well, especially when conversing with the enemy.”

  
Somehow you had anticipated she knew about it; it would have been arrogant to assume no one would notice.

  
“I am not gonna threaten you or give you an ultimatum,” Yoruichi continued, “And I hope you know what you are doing. The second I realize it will wind up being trouble I’ll end it.”

  
Her smile was somehow still warm even as it signaled violence.

  
“Fair,” you said and shrugged her surprise right off, “Although there’ll be no fucking need for it because I’ll take care of it.”

  
“Oh sure, sure,” she teased, “Is it the weaselly one I fought? He ran away pretty fast when I brought out the lightning spears.”

  
“Doesn’t fucking matter who it is.”

  
“Well, you obviously know _exactly_ what you are doing.”

  
Sarcasm thick enough to make you frown again; enough to justify getting up.

  
“Have a nice day, Blue,” Yoruichi called after you and laughed, “Don’t get into trouble!”

 

* * *

 

Renji Abarai was not just a fool who made bad jokes and supplied a corresponding sound when he winked. Those were just one part of him; a facet that included all the goofy things, the brashness and the bravado, even the weird nosiness when it came to your personal affairs.

  
Another facet was the anger; his was quicker than yours, stayed for just a second so it could burn away at his insides and then leave him a shell. You never bothered to teach him how to keep it stoked, that flame that flickered eternal. Anger was not for everyone. Abarai cared more than you did.

  
“Rukia asked me for advice with Orihime,” he told Kurosaki once as you were on guard, “Fuck, that was the worst minute of my life.”

  
“Still jealous?”

  
“Not jealous. But it isn’t like I can get over it in just a day.”

  
“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought if you think you have to do that.”

  
“Oy!” Abarai protested and then deflated again, audibly tired, “It’s my problem, I don’t want to bother them with it.”

  
“Well, you’re bothering me.”

  
“ _Oy!_ ”

  
They fell into companionable silence again but you knew they were not quite done yet.

  
“I think I like dudes now,” Abarai said and you had to control your laughter so they didn’t realize you were listening in, “I don’t know, man.”

  
“Or,” Kurosaki answered and sounded exasperated, “Maybe you’re bisexual, man. That’s a thing.”

  
Abarai took a shuddering breath. He was lying on his back spread eagle, completely caught up in his confusion. You had to admit that questioning your identity in the middle was both unexpected and bothersome. Amusing, as well. Worst place, worst timing.

  
“Yeah, that sounds okay, too,” Abarai said, “Now go the hell to sleep, dude, enough soul searching for now.”

  
“Like I was the one who started it.”

  
Their whisper-shouting was easy to tune out after that.

  
“Man, you’re not so bad for a Hollow,” Abarai said to you at some point, “I mean, considering what the others were like and all.”

  
“Who did you fight?”

  
“Pink hair and the giant caterpillar.”

  
You snorted at his descriptions.

  
“They were assholes,” you confirmed and felt little remorse at speaking about the dead like this, “They had it coming.”

  
Apart from Abarai there were a few others around, watching you and gauging your reaction as if they expected you to lose it any second now. The captain with the spiky hair grinned like a ghoul, some of the others just frowned. You were sure some of them had their own stories of the Espada to tell, stories of their defiance and their cruelty. They expected revenge where there would never be any. Espada was not a synonym for allegiance or- perish the thought- _family._

  
Pantera laughed at that and pressed her teeth beneath your skin.

  
“Grimmjow the martyr,” she said and giggled, completely unlike her, “Grimmjow the kind and caring. The Quincy whisperer.”

  
You know she hated the choices you made, the people you trusted and kept alive for some reason or other. A stranger’s thoughts; she was scared to death.

  
Pantera didn’t like Abarai; she watched Hirako with wariness as well and the rest of them were far beneath her. The only one she grew more accustomed to was Orihime but she was not around. With Rukia, probably.

  
“So it’s true?” the wasp-like captain asked with her nose turned up, “You followed Aizen for no reason other than greed?”

  
“One of them sounded like he disagreed,” Hirako commented, “Y’know, the guy with the gun.”

  
“My enemy, Tier Harribel, was loyal to her people. It can’t be true that there was no feeling of solidarity between you.”

  
It was the white-haired kid who said it; he rarely spoke since one of the others got killed during a battle. Their companionship did not seem commendable if it slowed them and clouded their judgment.

  
“He remembers her name,” Pantera told you and seemed pleased, “He has not forgotten.”

  
You hadn’t either. Harribel was inside a prison, awaiting the end of all things. With her fingers as brittle as charcoal she had reached out to the chains. Never broke them. Never stopped trying.

  
Later Abarai would walk beside you through a part of the palace that was unstable and collapsing, one droplet of stone at a time. Down below, into the world.

  
“Yo,” he said and scratched the back of his head, “Y’know, I didn’t mean to be a jerk about all the Hollows or blame ya for the whole Aizen shit, y’know.”

  
“Why the fuck are you telling me that? What, suddenly shinigamis want Hollows to be their damn friends so you gotta be careful not to hurt my feelings or some shit?”

  
“Nah,” Abarai shrugged, “Ichigo just sort of gathers friends everywhere and we end up working together.”

  
“ _So what?_ ”

  
“Like, dude, y’know.”

  
“No!?”

  
“I guess with everything going on and Aizen’s whole thing it’s pretty obvious you guys didn’t have much of a choice in following him,” Abarai said and frowned as if his speech made little sense to him all off a sudden, “Makes you think if this whole system isn’t fucked up.”

  
And if anything then you could admit to yourself when you had been wrong; Kurosaki’s friends had told you for a while that there were changes in the way others saw Hueco Mundo and your kind. It shouldn’t matter at all and Pantera despised the fact that it did.

  
“You’re too soft,” she lamented and it was her own weakness she mourned, “Nothing good will come out of it. You’ll see. Soon you’ll be alone again because all those pretty promises were nothing but honey to lure you in. When you end up crippled and dying don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

  
“The system is definitely fucked up,” you said to Abarai and let the voice in your inner world ring out like ripples in shallow water.

  
“Right? So that’s all I wanted to say with that stuff earlier. I sorta get it.”

  
“Of course,” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. It seemed to go over his head for once and you were weirdly grateful for that.

  
“You know, some of the Quincy changed sides as well just a while ago,” he sighed and scratched his head, “Man, I hope they’re not all dead.”

  
“Why?”

  
“Well,” he began and seemed embarrassed, “One of them liked my eyebrows and had really nice hair. Apart from the whole deal with potential allies dying that was just kind of great to hear. Wonder what happened to him.”

  
“Which one was that?”

  
“ _Bazz B_ , I think. Had a Mohawk. Some of his friends helped, too. Two girls.”

  
It was not much of a surprise that you had not met that particular Quincy; all you had seen of their forces was their equivalent of a chimera chicken, Kurosaki’s stuck up friend, and the traitor. Your experiences with their kind were very limited as a result.

  
“You didn’t count the one you cut in half,” Pantera reminded you, calmer, “That one was annoying.”

  
“Met worse,” you thought, “Remember Luppi?”

  
The irony would not escape you later.

  
“Yeah so,” Abarai said now and grinned, “You and Nel are pretty cool for a bunch of undead creatures.”

  
“Like you aren’t dead.”

  
“Well, you’re not wrong-”

  
“Save it, shinigami.”

  
He didn’t see your lips twitch as you turned away from him but you doubted he had to. Alliances; the worst of mistakes.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do you say all those fucking things to me?”

  
“What, _words_? I’m not sure you noticed, Grimmjow, but they are used as a means of communication, a code for written language of sorts, by most cultures-”

  
Askin stopped as he saw the look on your face, let you continue.

  
“That flattering stuff. Why are you doing that?”

  
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked, “That was not my intention. It is rather difficult to tell when dealing with someone who is constantly frowning, you see. Not that a scowl has to be necessarily unattractive-”

  
“ _That_ ,” you said and frowned, “The fuck are you saying that for?”

  
“Look, _you’re_ not unattractive, okay?”Askin told you and shrugged, “Hollow or not. I thought I had made that part very obvious. Does it come as a surprise?”

  
You stared at him with wide eyes. Now it was out in the open and you were clueless what to do with it; especially since it was such a crass contrast to your circumstances. You shivered.

  
“So,” Askin continued casually, “I don’t like mincing words, so _are_ you interested-”

  
“What?”

  
“Oh, you know, despite us technically being enemies I feel like consent is important. Or maybe even especially because of that.”

  
“ _What?_ ” you squawked.

  
Askin opened his mouth, closed it again and took in your dumbfounded expression for a while, as serious as you had ever seen him.

  
“ _Oh_ ,” he said and cleared his throat, “So that’s why. You’re not just not interested right now, you’re not interested in the whole 'casual sex' thing at all. I had a feeling. Good thing I wanted to make sure.”

  
Your hands twitched in the direction of Pantera. The tips of your ears burned; embarrassment, not disgust. You tried to ignore it, that weird feeling you got from all of this and him and his confusing words-

  
”Well then, now this is just awkward,” Askin said and it sounded genuine, “I do apologize, this was my mistake.”

  
You had no idea what you were supposed to say, not with a strange sort of heat creeping into your face, a reaction you were not sure you had ever shown before.

  
He did stay quiet for a moment, observing you closely with honest curiosity. Up close like this you were still confused how you reacted to finding him pretty.

  
“Asexual, then?” he asked, “Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. In the meantime I am sure we can work with things other than sex.”

  
“ _Like I care_.”

  
You did care. There was that word again, applied to you.

 

_Asexual._

 

It was confusing, all of it. _Flattering_ , you realized with grudging surprise as you watched him move away. Elegant, like a damn dancer.

  
Then he shifted again, always moving, never truly standing still.  

He was too fast for his own good, so clever he didn’t see the hints you feared were clear to see. At the very least that made things less complicated.

 

A sting in your chest. Askin moved on.

  
“Now, all that aside, there is something I have been meaning to ask,” he said, “I suppose it is a longer story than we have the time for, but I’m curious. What’s a Hollow doing here, saving the world?”

  
Askin sighed as he sat down on a pile of rubble and rubbed his temples. Small circles, over and over. His hair was mussed as a result- you liked it better like this.

  
It took you a moment of staring to realize he expected you to answer.

  
You were sure he was joking at first, another strange mind game to confuse you. But he just looked at you expectantly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. As if there wasn’t a war going on and he didn’t have a care in the world.

  
“What’s a Quincy commander doing negotiating with the enemy?” you replied and slowly lowered yourself onto a boulder.

  
Askin lifted his cup in your direction, an amused nod to your ability to throw the question back at him.

  
“Point taken,” he said and rested his chin on his palm, “Well, my part of this story is certainly too gloomy to be told in the middle of a war zone.”

  
“Ya think?”

  
“Isn’t yours?” Askin countered, his mouth curled in amusement, “I’d wager a guess it started with a desert on fire and Quincy taking what they didn’t own.”

  
You wondered what was worse- that he understood you or that you didn’t feel the need to tell him to shut up anymore.

  
“What’s with the damn change of heart?” you snapped, “You think I believe you just so happened to invade two worlds and _now_ you realized it was morally wrong to do that shit?”

  
“No, actually, quite the opposite.”

  
“Huh?”

  
“I am saying there was no change of heart at all, none of us were ever blind to what Yhwach did or wanted. Some were more informed about the Auswählen than others, but we all came here knowing it would be a war.”

  
“Then what the hell are you driving at?” you asked and leaned onto your knees, drumming your fingers on your leg. You had an idea what he was referring to but you wanted to see where he was going with this first before you confirmed your suspicions.

  
“I know how the Jagdarmee operates,” Askin told you and folded his hands underneath his chin, “It’s not pretty. There is a reason many of us never saw an Arrancar in the flesh before this invasion began.”

  
He wasn’t apologizing, you knew that, but it was difficult not to react to such a statement. Blaming all their faults on Yhwach was an obvious move but you remembered Aizen, the Espada following his command.

  
“You didn’t know what Hollows were?” you asked, “What kinda bullshit is that?”

  
Askin cocked his head, slightly irritated.

  
“We knew Hollows,” he replied slowly, “The kind that can’t speak, can’t think for themselves. Yhwach made it quite clear you were an insipid poison to all the worlds, not an entirely different kind of people.”

  
“So what? That suddenly makes it okay?”

  
“I want to give you an explanation, not find an excuse, “Askin said with a frown, “Honestly, a lot of this is me thinking out loud. I never planned for this scenario to go so awry. Don’t get me wrong, I have no sympathy to spare for a Soul Society that decides on genocide as quickly as it does on new rugs. What I do care about, however, is two emperors, yours and mine, and a way to get away from their control. I don’t like being deceived and what Yhwach told us about your kind does really not add up anymore.”

  
“So what?”

  
“Think about it- creating an image of the enemy is a very powerful tool when it comes to motivating your troops. I’m not saying we were right not to question it, I am just saying this is something worth remembering. Something to think about in the future.”

  
You stayed quiet, watched him watch you. Purple eyes; a soft color, a gentle color.

  
The sun was setting in the Quincy’s city and night fast approached. You smelled fires in the cool air, heard the noises of people moving about in the distance. You were far away from the group.

  
“I want your opinion on something you brought up before,” Askin declared, interrupting your train of thought. In the dim lighting of the evening his features looked sharper than before.

  
“Why the fuck would you ask me of all people?”

  
“Because, you see,” he said and frowned, “All my contacts among the Sternritter are currently busy being dead or on their way there. I could go visit one of your allies, of course, but I doubt I would get very far before they decide to resort to violence again.Very inconvenient.”

  
“ _Sure_.”

  
“I am gonna interpret that as something along the lines of ‘yes, I will share my opinion on the matter’.”

  
You rolled your eyes but gestured at him to go on. Askin bowed his head mockingly before he continued.

  
“Yhwach can see the future,” he said, more serious, “That is no secret and we’ve always been aware of it. However, you did bring up an excellent point. Why is he letting any of this happen, from the Soul Society’s resistance up to my actions right here?”

  
“Because whatever the fuck he sees in the future benefits him.”

  
“I wonder,” Askin replied and furrowed his brow, “What sort of future would someone like him be ready to lose everything for?”

  
A shiver ran down your spine, the promise of something more sinister than this war in the air. The much you disliked to admit it, the Quincy had a point.

  
So you listened, again, perhaps foolishly so.

 

* * *

 

Again you changed and they were all part of it- all those people you met and interacted with to varying degrees. Quincy, humans, Arrancar, shinigami- they all shaped you because it was the first time for you to join their sides and ranks in war. Hueco Mundo and Aizen’s battles had never been like this, could never have prepared you for emotional commitment to a cause. Save the worlds, save yourself in the process. It was more than survival, suddenly, and that cut deep to the bone, wrangled something from the depths of your soul.

 

* * *

 

 

Not all of your encounters were pleasant or helpful; it came as a surprise that any of them were. After all, what you joined was a legion of your enemies with people who wanted your kind dead so very desperately at your side.

  
Rukia’s brother almost got himself killed insulting you; the captain with the spiky hair did not expect you to retaliate quite as quickly. They all got along fine with Nel because she pretended to be something she was not- there was no envy, only anger.

  
You controlled it. You moved on.

  
“It’s not my fault,” she said to you once and she was right, no matter what that meant at that moment, “Do you want them to like you?”

  
“No,” was the not-lie you spat back at her, “Don’t pretend this is about something like that. This is about the damn Hollow corpses they sewed back together, that fucked up look on their faces when they remember what we are. I’ll kill every last one of them if that’s what it takes for them to respect us.”

  
Nel didn’t understand you like Harribel did; she wouldn’t know what kind of war there was between this and Aizen’s. But she knew you by now and how that mindless rage was frustration and despair alike.

  
So her eyes widened just by a fraction.

  
“You think after all this they’ll come for us next?”

  
“I don’t know,” you said and suddenly you felt tired enough to collapse, “I don’t fucking know what they’ll do with Hueco Mundo when this is over.”

  
It was easy to look back on things that happened; eternal, unchangeable. Not knowing where to go was a different story.

 

* * *

 


	28. but the air in your lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, they said, I forgot to post for like two months. Whoops indeed.
> 
> I am sure by now you will have noticed the tags I added- if not, they're there now. In the relationship category. I debated it for a long time but chose to tag the Askin/Grimmjow just to be on the safe side and also to give me more room to write. I know that it isn't a popular choice and I might be shooting myself in the foot with it but y'know, choices. In life. They exist. 
> 
> Whoops again for taking a long time and wish me luck because I intend to try and finish this thing up at some point.
> 
> (Another IMPORTANT thing I just remembered: I'm not gonna go into my bitterness any further but I am not happy with Bleach canon and ehhh, you'll kinda see what I kept and what I didn't but the main things I am gonna ignore are  
> -the way Yoruichi was treated, including her "final form"  
> -Urahara's Bankai and involvement in Yoruichi's fight  
> -Askin's Vollständig and, of course, death, but that one should be obvious by now seeing what course I am taking with the storyline  
> -Gerard's fight- we'll get to that soon enough  
> -anything beyond that tbh?? man I don't even know what to say at this point without launching into a 48 hour rant)
> 
> WARNINGS (my notes are getting freaking long): Mention of transphobia, a person misgendering themself in anger, general mentions of gender-related stuff

* * *

 

 

Hirako used a mask while fighting, just like Kurosaki had before you got yourself cut down. Watching him fight with a dual Zangetsu was an experience, but you wondered where the mask got to. It seemed symbolic, almost, that he would cast aside his Hollow powers when you decided to follow them. Pantera protested against that phrasing and you agreed with her as much as you could. But at the end of the day you fought with them, stayed with their group and let them guard your sleep. There was not much else to say.

  
Hirako and his people still had their masks. They used _cero_ as if they had never been any less than Hollow, as if all the strength of Hueco Mundo had been poured into them without the accompanying paranoid. You were anxious, jealous.

  
That was one of the reasons you avoided them like corpses afflicted by the plague. Or you would have- had it not been for Hirako.

  
“Raises an interesting philosophical question, don’t you think?” he asked you once after you finished off an onslaught of conjured Quincy foot soldiers with the _Visored_ at your side. Their name was something Yoruichi mentioned to you during the times she trained you, teasing remarks on the tip of her tongue.

  
“What philosophical question?” you returned harshly. Pantera’s edge was glistening with blood, her thirst yet not quenched. You wiped it clean on the white coats of the fallen, the disfigured.

  
“Are we Hollows or shinigami?” Hirako said and grinned, all teeth and poorly hidden mirth, “Does it matter what was there first? And, of course ‘aren’t we the same?’”

  
You scowled at him even if anger reared its ugly head inside of you.

  
“What, that fucks you up?” you asked, “Can’t stand the thought of being like an Arrancar?

  
“And you? Do you hate the idea of being a Visored?”

  
It took you off guard just like he wanted it, smirking and twirling his zanpakuto around as if it wasn’t a weapon at all.

  
“Look, Blue-” he said, “’m not sayin’ this to lecture you, that’s really none of my damn business. ‘m sayin’ this because people are gonna give you shit for being part of Aizen’s army.”

  
You scoffed.

  
“You’re the ones keeping him alive. I’d tear the fucker apart if I got close enough again, so ya really shouldn’t be pointing fingers here, _almost-Hollow_.”

  
Hirako didn’t react as you expected- you were sure he would laugh it off and keep prodding. Instead his expression darkened. The laugh he did huff out was far from amused.

  
“I’d let you,” he said, “Might help you if I had to make a choice. ‘Tear him apart’, huh?”

  
And perhaps that’s why he was the easiest to get along with; because even if he had started in Soul Society he had not returned there without half a Hollow mind.

  
Linked, all of it.

 

* * *

 

 

What followed was the revelation that yes, you were part shinigami. It was nothing to be proud of. Not a curse yet.

  
Peace was something you had always considered naive- in Hollow terms it was the absence of a fight and thus impossible. So considering it, mulling it over as if it could work out _and_ work out in your favor was futile.

  
“I wish there could be an end to the useless fighting,” Orihime told you once and she sighed with the burden of everyone dying on her shoulders, “I don’t understand the wish to wage war just- just for the heck of it.”

  
It was funny to see her angry and swear at other times, the blush on her face as she said words she considered rude. Rukia teased her about it in the same moment she glared at you for speaking so ‘uncouth’.

  
When she told you and those others who had come from Hueco Mundo about her fears you had not laughed. What you wanted wasn’t war, it was your home intact and strength proven. Aizen desired conflict, hungered for it and used you under a disguise of protection that was thinner than a needle.

  
“The Quincy invaded this place,” was what Nel said, “I’m not interested in politics but it does seem reasonable to want to fight them off.”

  
Yoruichi patted her shoulder and pulled her favorite Hollow along.

  
“It’d be great if we could hear the enemy out and come to an understanding, eh? That’s just not how it works. All we can do is kick some ass and get ourselves outta this alive before they fuck up the world beyond repair,” she said and winked at you, “Right, Blue?”

  
She was protective of the girls, of Orihime and Nel in particular; fought for them tooth and nail and thunder lances ripping through the air. Yoruichi made sure they didn’t have doubt or worries plaguing them at all, laughed out loud and teased where she knew it was appropriate.

  
A different kind of behavior, another way to care.

 

* * *

 

 

There was always a Hollow beneath the human skin.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Segunda Etapa_ , Pantera whispered again and you felt it like a tremor running through your body. It started in the soles of your feet, ran up your calves and thighs into your spine and up its ridge and marrow. _Segunda Etapa_ was in your head, in your heart, in the hollow within your middle. All it took was one last step forward, one last agreement between you and that other voice inside your head.

  
Your inner world, however, was huge and unfamiliar. Just like it should be; because what you showed to the outside world was always less than what you kept on the inside. Here it grew and festered and let its gaping maw fall open, spitting with rage.

  
Your inner world was colorful. Pantera had hinted it had changed since the last time you came here but you never realized how drastic said change was going to be. Where you remembered a desert there were mountains of ice now, pillars reaching up into the sky- endlessly, wandering. There was no sound in here, no life other than your own reiatsu flickering like a feeble flame. Among the glaciers the air smelled like fire and its burned remains; you could feel the ashes fall where there were none. Timidly you reached out to press your fingers against the surface of a pillar close to you. You never touched it, never made it far enough as if it bent to avoid you.

  
“Having trouble, child?”

  
Pantera’s voice was always kinder here than on the outside as if she was trying to keep you here with her. What sounded like its own obsession was just your drive to survive, to find this one untouchable safe place.

  
Her shape was inconsistent, flickering, but as she drew closer she managed to fit her powers into a physical manifestation.

  
Pantera was tall and graceful here, letting her reiatsu mingle with yours until you were warm and comfortable in her domain. Even if she teased and mocked you often you were still technically her king; without you there would be nothing here, no ever-changing world.

  
“It’s been a while,” she said and tugged on your heartstrings like fingers on an instrument, “Can you feel how close we are, Grimmjow?”

  
“Sounding a little too affectionate there,” you replied and snorted, “Don’t you dare start with that, too.”

  
She drew closer, a shadow, a storm. Even if she slipped into a human disguise she was only female in the way you addressed her, a preference she established during your first meeting. Now she chose the shape of a human just slightly beating you in height, short hair as white as the ice all around. The markings on her face matched your own and she grinned.

  
“We are almost there,” she purred and flicked your ear, “Come with me now, child.”

  
“Stop calling me that already.”

  
“Never.”

  
She laughed as she walked on ahead, led you through the icy wastes into the sky where there was no one to fight or judge.

  
“Why do you need to be up here for this?” you asked and shuddered as you looked down at nails and splinters that were mountains down below.

  
“Because we love the sky,” Pantera laughed, “You silly child.”

 

* * *

 

 

As you returned to the here and now and left your inner world behind you found yourself face to face with Orihime who was just about to poke your nose.

  
”Oh, I’m sorry!” she said and sat back on her haunches across from you, “I was worried something happened to you.”

  
“Told you he was fine,” Rukia mumbled where she slept on the ground, face buried in the rolled up bundle of her coat. You followed the line of her arm and saw that their fingers were intertwined even now.

  
Orihime blushed as she realized you noticed it; she didn’t let go.

  
“Were you speaking to your zanpakuto?” she asked and even if her voice still betrayed her embarrassment you knew it was not just a random change of topic.

  
“Yeah,” you said and rubbed your neck, “Pantera’s kinda agitated because we’re in enemy territory and all.”

  
“Oh, is she nice?”

  
“She’s an asshole,” you replied.

  
You heard Sado laugh somewhere behind you, huddled close to his friends.

  
“Suits you,” Rukia snorted.

  
Orihime giggled as you grumbled something rude as a reply. It was so strangely _nice_ , this type of bickering with little to no consequence.

  
Abarai flopped down on his back just a short distance away, placing his sword at his side.

  
“Zabimaru is annoying, too, but don’t tell her I said that,” he muttered and grinned, “Women, right?”

  
Rukia threw something at him that landed on his stomach with a dull noise. Abarai responded in turn with a string of curses and a pained yowl.

  
“So Pantera is a girl?” Orihime asked you and still looked so genuinely interested you were not sure how to behave.

  
“No, uh-” you began and cleared your throat, “She’s not anything.”

  
You could hear your zanpakuto spirit herself mock you in your head for how eloquent you were. She appreciated it, though, the fact that you did not lie.

  
“What do you mean?” Abarai asked and looked up with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, “ _Not anything_?”

  
If someone had asked you two years ago if you could ever see yourself discussing your zanpakuto’s gender with a bunch of humans and shinigami you would have thought them mad. That didn’t automatically mean that it seemed desirable now but you didn’t feel the need to get up and slice someone open from the stomach to the throat.

  
“She doesn’t have a gender?” Sado asked, “But she prefers to be addressed as a _she_.”

  
“Yeah,” you said, grateful for someone to put it into words, “Guess that’s it.”

  
“Actually,” Kurosaki butted in from where he was approaching, “I looked that up a while ago and apparently people who realize none of the concepts of gender really fits them call themselves agender. Or, that’s one possible thing. It’s kinda confusing sometimes.”

  
He strolled closer and you were suddenly acutely aware you were sitting within a circle of his friends, discussing personal matters. Immediately you were anxious to leave.

  
“Where’d you find that? That yoohoo thing?” Rukia asked.

  
“No one uses yahoo to search for things,” Sado replied and then returned back to the book he was reading, a small thing with worn edges and pages yellowed with age.

  
“I did google it,” Kurosaki admitted and dropped down on the ground close to Abarai, “I was curious. Turns out there is a lot more to it than I thought.”

  
“Or maybe it’s all bullshit.”

  
You said it before you had time to think.

  
Suddenly Kurosaki was looking at you and you felt like you had been caught red-handed- an impostor.

  
“What do you mean by that?” he asked and it sounded colder than you anticipated, as if he could pardon many of your errors but not this one. This silence was uncomfortable.

  
Deer in headlights, Hollow being dissected.

  
“Nothing,” you said and got up, “Whatever.”

  
You were on your way to the outskirts of the makeshift camp as Orihime caught up to you.

  
“You don’t have to leave,” she told you as she held you back by the wrist, “I want to know more about Pantera.”

  
“Not scared I’ll insult all your friends again? Get violent and kill you all?”

  
It was a strange thing to reply and she knew it, as if she could relate to your inability to form words and know who you were and what you wanted.

  
Orihime rolled her eyes at you and you were honestly taken aback by how unexpected such a gesture was from her.

  
She tugged on your hand and you let her because fuck, you trusted her even if you hated the thought.

  
“Come on,” she said, “We’re going back.”

  
Sado nodded at you as you were dragged into their friendly little circle once more. It was so ridiculous, human and shinigami and that one stray Hollow in their midst. All you ever learned was how to kill them.

  
“Changed your mind?” Rukia asked and extended her hand in your direction. Instinctively you knew it wasn’t meant for you and you were proven right in that assumption; Orihime let go of you and intertwined her fingers with Rukia’s again.

  
Abarai nudged your boot with his knee.

  
“You gonna sit down or what? Damn Hollows with no manners.”

  
He was grinning, though, as if all of this was a joke and you just weren’t in on it.

  
“We’ll see about manners when I break your fucking legs,” you muttered as you sat down, “Shinigami bastard.”

  
Abarai just laughed, no malice in the sound.

  
Across from you was still Kurosaki; purposefully avoiding your eyes and watching the darkness at his side.

  
Footsteps moved past you, stopped, kept moving.

  
”Kids, be nice to each other,” Hirako shouted and waved absentmindedly, “Or someone will end up crying again.”

  
You flipped him off even if he couldn’t see it.

  
Then the silence returned and you realized the rest of them had gone to sleep; Orihime and Rukia pressed so close together you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. It was only now their friends began to realize they were together at all.

  
“Surprising, huh?” Kurosaki asked you.

  
“Not really,” you answered.

  
Then he got up and held out a hand to you, another invitation. You didn’t want to talk to him about what was on his mind. Still you sneered. Still you reached out and let him pull you up, away from the group.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is gender not a concern for Hollows?”

  
“Some look down on the women, call them weak. I mean, you met Nnoitra.”

  
“Yeah,” Kurosaki confirmed and stretched the word unnecessarily, “That was unpleasant.”

  
“Damn right.”

  
“So to you it doesn’t matter at all?”

  
“I don’t fucking know, Kurosaki. Why do you care?”

  
“It’s shitty to have to figure out by yourself even as a human, I don’t wanna imagine what it’s like as a Hollow.”

  
You scowled and pressed your palms down onto the stone more strongly, let the pebbles sting your skin. Kurosaki sat beside you on the narrow wall, dangling his legs. Like you were allies. Equals. Whatever-the-hell.

  
“It’s not pity,” he said, “But you don’t even have google for that stuff.”

  
You didn’t mention you had no idea what google was or where he could shove it.

  
“Pantera was really different from you,” Kurosaki laughed, “She hated me so much.”

  
“What, like I don’t hate you now?”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied and waved you off, “Of course you do. But she wasn’t just angry, she just despised me.”

  
“How could you even tell?”

  
The certainty in his voice confused you, but didn’t it ever. Especially as he looked at you again, trying to impose his honesty on you.

  
“I don’t know how it works,” he admitted and scratched his head, “But sometimes, during a fight, I can kinda tell what my opponent is feeling or something. It’s weird.”

  
“Yeah. It is.”

  
His words when speaking about Aizen made sense now, though. What he did not mention was how inconvenient it could be to know a lot about someone you were supposed to kill.

  
“Irony,” Pantera laughed, “Do you see why you are making it more difficult for yourself?”

  
She made you angry; angrier than you should be considering how important these subjects were, even to you. Especially to you.

  
“So yeah,” Kurosaki said, “Fighting you was like listening to your anger. And, uh, the rest.”

  
“So what?” you snapped at him as your irritation and _something_ you felt culminated, “You showed mercy because you were fighting a woman, Kurosaki?”

  
Pantera screamed in your inner world, a siren’s call, because she knew exactly what vulnerability looked like and where the insecurities lay hidden. One word to fuck it all up, the denial and what it desired.

  
“An opponent is an opponent,” Kurosaki said evenly and frowned, “Kinda thought that was something we agreed on. And unless you figured out something else about yourself, which would be fine as well, I’m pretty sure you said you were a guy.”

  
“Yeah. Whatever.”

  
He was right, of course; in both cases. You were not Nnoitra or Luppi, your views on strength and equality differed from theirs. The other thing-

  
“You know it really doesn’t matter,” Kurosaki said.

  
“Huh?”

  
“It’s not important what kind of, uh, organs you have. You know that, right? It’s-”

  
You let him talk even if you barely listened anymore; it was fascinating to watch his enthusiasm instead, the passionate approach to explaining your enemy how to accept themselves. Pantera curled around your soul protectively and laughed at the same time.

  
“That boy really has gotten to you, huh?” she asked, “If you trust him with something like this.”

  
Kurosaki kept talking, about how there were things you shouldn’t have to figure out on your own, how he understood but never pitied you, how your ‘damn stubborn cotton candy fluff of a head’ needed to accept that you were allies now and he would never use any of this against you. What a fool.

  
“And you aren’t?” Pantera asked, “For believing him? For feeling better about yourself when he supports you?”

  
“I might be like her, to be honest,” Kurosaki said and shut the voice in your head up almost comically fast, “ _Agender_. Not sure, though. It’s all such a damn jumble.”  
It was. It shouldn’t be reassuring there were others like you.

 

* * *

 

 

The problem with a matter that should be as trivial as your preferences in hypothetical relationships or your gender was that your brain tended to overthink them. The fighting was fine, the running was fine. The rest wasn’t.

  
Suddenly it was everywhere; the hints of someone beginning to trust you, of people seeing you on their side. Nel spoke to you more often and with a smile, Hirako didn’t watch his back around you, Rukia expected you to be the one to back her up when she activated her Bankai.

  
And then, of course-

 

* * *

 

 

“Gerard’s power is to turn every battle around in his favor,” Askin said and blew on his fingernails, “Like the miracle he says he is he uses the damage he receives to grow in size. No euphemism intended, he actually does just turn into a giant version of himself.”

  
You watched him as he leaned back against the remains of a wall; anxious, as far as you could tell, nervous because of something so much more complicated than an imminent threat.

  
He wasn’t looking at you. As a result you alternated between nervously picking on your sleeves and observing him in profile. It was the wrong time for it, for all of this, all of the confusion about who and what you wanted.

  
So you stayed quiet and listened.

  
“However, he has a weakness,” Askin continued, “Use his own weapons against him. Cut off his head and burn it. Miracle or not, he can’t regenerate that without Yhwach’s blessing. Which, at this point in time, he would not get. His Majesty needs all the strength there is.”

  
“What about the others?”

  
“Well, I think you’ve already disposed of Pernida and Lille, haven’t you?”

  
You hesitated before giving him an answer.

  
“I guess.”

  
“Oh, I forgot, you’re new to this charade. Well, who has time to keep track of their enemies? They’re dead as far as I can tell.”

  
Askin swiped a few stray strands of his hair behind his ear and sighed as if the memory of his companions dying physically pained him.

  
"Who else is there?” you asked him, “What about that guy who used to be with Kurosaki?”

  
You knew exactly what he was called. Spite alone kept you from using his name.

  
“Oh, the newbie?” Askin asked, “I have no idea what he can do, to be honest. I’d be careful, though, he was announced as Yhwach’s successor so he might pull an Almighty on all of you.”

  
“Jeez, that’s so fucking helpful.”

  
“Certainly. You, however, are just rude.”

  
You scowled at him. All of his mannerisms looked a little off to you, as if he used a set of movements only Quincy knew about. It was intriguing, much to your chagrin.

  
“Watch out for Haschwalth,” he said curtly, an afterthought, “In all my time with him I have never found out what he is truly capable of. Clones, illusions, the brand of the cross; that’s just the start.”

  
“Meaning...?”

  
“Even if I knew all his techniques and limits he’d be a nuisance to fight. He’s unpredictable. If it benefits him to cut off his own arm in battle he will do it. Anything for His Majesty.”

  
“Sounds like you admire him. Doesn’t make you more credible, y’know.”

  
Askin produced a vague noise of disapproval and you were almost absolutely certain he was pouting. It was hard to tell. You weren’t sure what to think of his interest in the other Sternritter, filed the information away for a better time. Pantera called it jealousy with a bitter tone.

  
“Well, how credible was I in the first place?” he asked and shrugged after a few moments of contemplation, “Just because dear Jugram happens to be a sparkly wonder of a commander doesn’t mean his sight blinds me to the bigger picture.”

  
“ _His sight_?”

  
“I told you, just because this is a war doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty, may that be my former commander, or, say, an enemy Hollow.”

  
You bristled, confused. Flattered by how casually he said it.

  
“What-”

  
“I am not _constantly_ following Kurosaki’s people,” Askin assured you, “I only observe your precious team those times before I approach you. I would like to avoid getting caught up in their mess, your side’s or the other’s.”

  
It wasn’t at all what you had wanted to ask about; but you didn’t insist. Anything but suspicion from your end was _trouble_ , with attraction at the very top of the list.

  
The clash was approaching and one party would be eradicated; you all knew it, every last one of you.

  
A flash of spiritual pressure in the distance solidified that assumption.

  
“I think our time’s up,” Askin told you and craned his neck to observe what happened outside in the palace. He looked as tired as you felt, albeit more high-strung and less covert. You watched as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

  
“If you’re so damn concerned for your friends, why the hell are you running away?” you asked.

  
All you knew about loyalty was what Orihime and her people had beaten into your head and they were doing the exact opposite of saving themselves.

  
“Oh, nosy, aren’t we?” Askin replied and it was no surprise he laughed it off, eyebrows arched and lips pressed together into the thinnest fake-smile. He wasn’t unattractive either, you noted once more, not even with the fear of death right there in his soul.

  
You jumped to your feet and cracked your neck, rubbed the tense line of your shoulders, tried to get your mind off of this unfortunate train of thought.

  
“Didn’t Aizen offer you a similar thing?” Askin said as you stayed quiet for long enough, “Power and a way to use it, revenge and beyond? Isn’t that what brought you here?”

  
“He offered us slavery if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

  
“It’s not that different. Yhwach invaded, took the dead and dying. Then he let us all huddle so very close around the, how do you say, _flame of his compassion_.”

  
“So you feel like you owe him? Or did he just scare you into fighting?”

  
Askin smiled, shrugged with his palms facing upward.

  
“I thought we addressed this before, I’m not going back on what I said. His vision is certainly interesting,” he said, “All moral issues aside the concept of a word following the destruction of all those preceding it seems compelling. From a scientific standpoint, that is.”

  
“If it sounds so fucking interesting then why do you wanna get out now?”

  
You frowned.

  
His expression didn’t change, stayed amused.

  
“Interesting in theory,” he explained, “Which, for a lack of a better expression, doesn’t translate well to reality. I am not arrogant enough to assume that His Majesty would allow any of his underlings by his side in such a future. Besides, a world devoid of anything apart from all he deems worthy of existing, such a, uh, wasteland, is-”

  
Another burst of reiatsu stopped him in the middle of his explanation, had him stumbling a little closer as he flinched. Jumpy, a balancing act.

  
There were more points of spiritual pressure approaching and moving once again; time started ticking away. Fragile. Brittle.

  
“Incredible how time flies when you’re in good company,” Askin said and bowed his head with a smile, “Be seeing you around.” He flicked the edge of your collar, smoothed it out again. You didn’t stop him.

  
As the group got to you he was long gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have so many things I need to do when we get out of here,” Orihime whispered and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, “I should make a list.”

  
“I think Sado had pens and paper,” Rukia said, her voice softer than you had ever heard. Something you should not be privy to. The war got under her skin too, even if she steeled her nerves and held her head high. You weren’t sure what happened between her and her brother but she watched him with fear; fear for his life. With little space between all of you where you slept it was easy to hear her panicked breathing, desperately forced quiet with a palm of her hand. Every time Rukia was shaken awake she grew more distant. Considered herself a burden still, an aberrant.

  
Sado did have pens and paper, as well as the kindness to carry them to the small hideout you slept in today. Sometimes you tried to decipher what he was writing down in quiet moments, but the letters and their meanings were jumbled in your memory.

  
In all honesty, you were unsure why you chose to stay with them or why they allowed it at all. Maybe it was because they knew you were the odd one out, the deadly animal with no idea how to talk or want anything beyond violence.

  
So you curled up with them around. Pantera muttered curses in the back of your head but for once you knew that you were more reasonable. These people wouldn’t kill you here, not now. What you had to be watch out for was the moment you were expendable again.

  
“Rukia!” Orihime called out and tugged her friend close so that they could both see the piece of paper, “Let’s make a list right now.”

  
“Don’t run out of ink,” Sado told them and huffed out a laugh as he saw you watching all of them with raised eyebrows. They were so human even if they shouldn’t be at this point- worn by battle, captured and attacked and their homes violated by group after group. You hesitated. It never occurred to you that was the reason you ever began to relax around them.

  
“What kinda stuff’s gonna be on that list?” you asked, not without your usual rough edge. They understood, strangely enough. ‘You do you’ is all you always heard.

  
“That, Blue-” Hirako told you and patted your shoulder as you jumped at his sudden arrival, “-that seems to be a bucket list.”

  
Somehow you felt like asking what buckets had to do with anything was a bad idea. You could infer the meaning without having people laugh at your lack of knowledge.

  
“Yeah, but what’s on it?” you asked.

  
Orihime beamed at you with all the happiness she could muster. If you had not become so accustomed to her strange kindness you might have blushed bright red in embarrassment. Sincerity was still an inherently strange concept to you.

  
“Well, catching up on my schoolwork is on the list,” she began and pouted, “But that’s not as important as eating ice cream and showing you around the human world!”

  
For a second you just stared blankly but then it clicked; it was the general _you_ , sure, but it still included you.

  
“You and Nel haven’t seen much of it yet, right?” Orihime continued and shifted nervously, “I mean if you’d like to and all, I don’t want to force you into-”

  
“We’d love to,” Nel interrupted her and gave you a pointed look, “Right, Grimmjow?”

  
“Sure,” you muttered. You wanted to agree so much it embarrassed you.

  
Orihime smiled even brighter and you could tell the rest of them felt the same- as if suddenly you were nothing but their overgrown house cat needing a pat on the head.

  
Pantera’s anger flared and yours followed her command again, had you pressing your eyes shut. Kurosaki had to die. The Quincy had to die. Everyone but you. Hueco Mundo was yours.

  
“You don’t even believe that yourself,” Pantera growled, “Because you are an idiot and not interested in keeping us alive. You don’t know what you want, you just rush head first into danger. What the fuck do you think they are gonna do once they don’t need you anymore?”

  
“And we need to show Ichigo the ferris wheel,” Rukia said in that moment, carrying on their talk, “So if you want to take your new Hollow kids along I’m sure that’d be fine.”

  
Orihime laughed. Pantera fell silent.

 

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki, who never played by the rules.

 

* * *

 

 

“Looks like it’ll just be the two of us against the Valkyrie dude,” Kurosaki said and cracked his knuckles, “You ready for a challenge, Grimmjow?”

  
“Are you?” you replied immediately and offered him a lazy grin, “You think you can keep up with me?”

  
It had not escaped your notice that your bickering had become more benign and less of that hateful drivel you used before. Things changed and you were still learning, consciously and subconsciously. What humans meant when they spoke of compassion.

What it meant to want it. Protecting an enemy was just the first step of many on the way to your downfall.

  
“Glad to have you on my side,” Kurosaki told you as he unsheathed his swords and entered something like an improvised battle stance, less finesse and rather an unwavering enthusiasm. Fighting was _fun_ sometimes and he embraced it. Differently than you used to, though. Not focused on the inevitability of death at all.

  
“Keep it,” you growled, “It’s not like I had a choice.”

  
“Like hell would you be here fighting alongside me if you didn’t want to. Face it, Grimmjow, you want to be here.”

  
Your enemy saved you from having to correct him with insults and pulled punches. A lightning strike of reiatsu smashed into you and sent you flying.

  
It didn’t hurt and you were laughing because it had been a while since you faced a strong enemy. Sharing a fight was something you were new to still, your experience limited to the experience you had gathered in the Soul King’s palace itself. The _Wahrwelt_.

A memory stirred within you of words shoved together incorrectly, or speaking foreign tongues.

  
Kurosaki blocked a blow meant for you and shouted at you to focus; you yelled back a demand for him to mind his own damn business.

  
Somehow you were giddy anyway and he shared the sentiment; it was strange, so strange, to find yourself glancing at your enemy turned rival to find him staring back. What Askin said came to your mind, what you had tried to figure out about yourself. A choice to make right here in the heart of the war.

  
Maybe this, beyond the fighting and the details of pity, maybe this was something you could grow accustomed to.

  
Kurosaki smiled as you followed up one of his attacks with another, kept a chain going that took the chance to retaliate from your adversary.

  
“Doing good there, Grimmjow,” Kurosaki teased you and dodged a slash to his head, “Keep ‘em coming.”

  
As he accessed his Bankai, the new one, the one to end the worlds, you met him step for step. Your claws shifted density, the spikes on your arm grew into blades. There was a crown on your head and waves of hair spilling out beneath it.

  
“ _Segunda Etapa_ ,” you whispered and opened your mouth to show razor teeth, “ _Finally_.”

 

* * *

 


	29. and they took from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, no warnings I think. except for one that is like "the author is an opinionated ass so expect a lot of carnage".
> 
> Lil' bit of violence. And actual plot progression I cannot believe
> 
> finger guns @ all of you for sticking with it ayooo

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki found his own enemy; you traded him for the worse of two evils.

  
Abarai assisted you during your fight even if you protested that you could handle yourself and the enemy just fine, _thank you very much_.

  
“Look, dude, I’m just helping out, okay?”

  
“ _Look, dud_ e, you can fuck right off or I’ll shove your head so far up your ass-”

  
The downward slash of a giant sword interrupted you and subsequently ended your argument. Abarai yelped as he jumped backwards in the opposite direction, barely avoiding the attack.

  
The Quincy followed it up immediately, dashed after you first. You had expected him to give chase even in mid-air and you let him think he had you cornered. His words were venomous and you scrunched your face up in fear as you fell, let him believe he would have an easy time fighting you.

  
Your Segunda Etapa was not as flashy as some of the other sword releases, it did not make you taller or broader in frame.

  
Valkyrie shot past you as you rolled to the side. One of the blades on your arm hooked into his back and gravity pulled him down on it, ripped through his flesh with clean precision.

  
Blood splashed high but you were already gone, traveling upwards with sonido to where Abarai was.

  
“You have horns now,” he said and stared, “How many forms can you guys even access?”

  
“Don’t you shinigami have like fourteen variations of Bankai?” you replied icily, “I wasn’t even around for a while and I am sure Kurosaki alone had like six.”

  
“Well, you’re not wrong-”

  
You stepped apart again to avoid an uppercut directed at your shins. Valkyrie had a reaitsu that oozed off of him in thick waves and it was almost impossible not to tell he was approaching; with every missed strike he only grew angrier.

  
“Dude, do you need a ribbon for your hair or something?” Abarai yelled at you even as he blocked a hit to his chest, “Doesn’t it get in the way?”

  
Pantera dug into the Quincy’s neck from behind and you used your own weight as leverage on the handle to wrench it downward through the lungs. Valkyrie tried to twist around and crush you beneath his fingertips but a skeletal snake wrapped around his torso and held him in place.

  
“Worry about your damn coat first, that shit looks like you’re gonna trip on it,” you replied, ignoring the sputtering Quincy beneath you.

  
The flesh of his neck was squishy as you drove your claws straight through from the side. It gave so easily, _Blut_ and blood. Pantera purred and a grin split your face in two. It was so calm, this new power of yours, so assured and stable that it came as a relief.

A soothing feeling, limitless strength at your disposal.

  
“That’s-” Abarai began and frowned, “Really damn gross, dude.”

  
Valkyrie choked. He stilled.

  
“Get back!” someone shouted from behind you and you recognized the voice before you considered obeying its command. Rukia.

  
Another second trickled by and you looked at Abarai who retreated- not very far but far enough. The order was not meant for you, not in the same way.

  
You rolled away to the side and avoided the spear that whirled past your head, right into the Quincy’s shield and straight on through. Valkyrie was preparing to unleash an explosion of reiatsu and as he did you saw the wings sprout from his back immediately. _Vollständig_ , at last.

  
Abarai left and you knew why; this was not his battlefield now, not with Rukia here even if he resented it.

  
Meanwhile the spear returned to its owner, landed precisely in steady hands.

  
“Lanzador Verde,” Nel said and launched her weapon right back at her wounded victim, “Metralleta.”

  
The rays of green light she fired from her hand looked like Cero but you knew better; you had trained with them and they pierced flesh easier and more effectively. They slowed, crippled, floored you. You remembered spitting blood as you underestimated them.

  
“Hakka no Togame,” you heard next as if the two were trying to compete with each other, see who could win this the fastest.

  
You ducked under the first beam of ice that shot at the Quincy who tried in vain to use his wings in the sudden cold. Winter felt like this, you thought, it had to.

  
A quick look to Nel told you that in her current form she could not slow Valkyrie’s movement. Rukia was behind you, keeping the temperature steadier than she should be able to. It strained her immensely and you waited no longer.

  
The Quincy grunted as you broke his arm and wrenched it against his back with your tail. His free hand grabbed your calf just a second later. All you had to feel was a twitch of his fingers and you knew he was about to crush your lower leg. His scream was incredibly satisfying; spikes protruded from the back of his hand as he let go, bone daggers extending from your armor. The pained sounds only peaked as you bent and stabbed his own sword through his stomach with one hand. Using the arch of your spine and the leverage you had with the razors on your tail stuck to his arm you pulled him on the blade, forced him to impale himself on it until he had nothing left to grasp.

  
“Fuck you,” he said and it was the first time he directly addressed you. “How did you know-”

  
Then the ice swallowed his wings and the last green spear cleaved his mask in half.

  
Almost immediately you could feel the tension lessen in his limbs, a puppet with its strings cut and abandoned. You let go of him and watched him fall.

  
“Not just yet,” Pantera said and you agreed with her.

  
_Desgarrón_ was on the tip of your tongue but a screeching red wave of reiatsu sliced Valkyrie in half and burned his remains before you could.

  
“Too slow!” Nel shouted at you, “Like a snail!”

  
“ _Fuck off_ ,” you returned without a hitch, “Anyone can deal a finishing blow like that!”

  
“Actual snail Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!”

  
“Nelliel, I swear I will rip your fucking head off-”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Orihime took a break from her own fight to heal a gash on your leg.

  
“It’s fucking fine,” you grumbled and tried to get away, “I don’t need-”

  
“No, you stay right here and let me heal this,” she commanded. Her frown was not very threatening but you gave in anyway.

  
“Didn’t even notice he got me,” you muttered, “Bastard.”

  
“It’s the adrenaline,” Orihime replied and carefully wove her orange shield around your leg. As time progressed her powers stopped appearing in fixed shapes- she could form whatever she wanted and control its flow and density. She let bunnies jump around if she felt like it- and, of course, if Rukia just happened to be around- and twisted images out of an orange glow just because she could.

  
It was strange to see her healing again after all this time; you were used to seeing her fight and laugh while she knocked you off your feet quite literally during a sparring session. To everyone but her it came as a surprise that she could be both- warrior and healer, calm and precise in her attacks.

  
She probably knew she was kinder than the world deserved right now.

  
“The morihime, the betterihime,” Hirako told you once and laughed so loud as he saw your expression that he had to steady himself on a broken palace wall.

  
“You know, I am beginning to think we might actually make it,” she told you and smiled, all honesty and gentleness, “I’m glad you joined us. Jaegerjaquez-kun.”

  
The formal way of addressing you was more of a joke by now, a nudge to how you had somehow managed to find a way to get along great within a war.

  
“I guess I should say the same, huh?” you replied and tested your leg as she finished the healing process, “Like hell. Not gonna jinx this shit now. There’ll be time for all the heart-to-hearts once this whole thing is over.”

  
Orihime laughed at your disgruntled dismissal.

  
She could have walked ahead into the fight but she did not; side by side was fine with her. Ally, not Hollow. You supposed you could extend her the same courtesy.

  
“Don’t get yourself killed, idiot,” you told her and bumped your shoulder into hers, “Don’t wanna have to rescue you.”

  
“I don’t think I’d be the one who needs rescuing,” she replied and laughed still, “Be careful, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I heard you made a deal with Urahara,” Kurosaki asked you as you lay sprawled out on the dusty floor, catching your breath. He was right beside you, a few others a good distance away. After his battle he had returned here; another Quincy defeated.

  
“So what?” you asked and frowned.

  
“Just curious. I wonder what you could have traded, is all.”

  
Kurosaki paused and then his eyes widened.

  
“Wait, you didn’t ask him for complete world domination, right?”

  
“Only as an added bonus.”

  
“Honestly, at this point I wouldn’t even be surprised. Since my dad walked up to me and told me I am not only a shinigami-human-Hollow hybrid but also have Quincy stuff mixed in I am pretty open to fucked up developments in my life.”

  
You looked over at him and he grinned back at you, dirt smudges all over his nose and cheeks. It didn’t take your breath away or let your heart skip a beat. On the contrary, you were comfortable right where you were and wasn’t that the scariest thought.

  
“Just can’t stop at one cool power, huh, Kurosaki?” you asked and laughed, “Gotta have all of them.”

  
“Aw, you called me cool. Are you jealous, Grimmjow?”

  
“You wish. I don’t want any of your Quincy shit.”

  
Kurosaki snorted and let his head fall back against the stone ground. He stared up at the Soul King’s sky. Another one of Yhwach’s special forces had fallen, only a few more to go.

  
“Nakk Le Vaar,” Kurosaki began to count, “Haschwalth, Yhwach, Ishida. We are so close.”

  
“What, you’re gonna kill them all? What’s with the hitlist all of a sudden?”

  
You saw rather than heard him take a deep breath, as if he acutely felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  
“I-” he said and frowned, “I gotta be ready for it, at least. If no one else can and there is no other way out then I’ll have to do it, right?”

  
He wasn’t a child and you didn’t have the magic words to make it all okay again; you wouldn’t have used them anyway. Kurosaki was trying to be realistic about this and considered the wishes of those who followed him. There was not much more you could ask for.

  
“You better don’t go back on that,” you growled and looked away, “I’ll kick your ass if you show mercy to that bastard.”

  
“Now, that definitely sounded jealous.”

 

* * *

 

 

A wave of ice encased the entire surface of the palace’s highest area- close to what you now knew as the _Silbern._

  
On your way up towards the battle it was Sado who was closest to you; a comforting presence, not unlike another Hollow’s. His power was unlike any other and so were its effects on you. Calm was good, calm was helpful.

  
Pantera agreed for once; stayed silent and watchful.

  
“So,” you called out to Sado, “You guys gonna have a problem with killing that one Quincy?”

  
“Ishida?” he asked.

  
“Yeah.”

  
Sado stayed quiet and you knew there were things you could not put into words; and their strange friendship and loyalty had to be one of them. Friends that would have died for one another- until suddenly the Sternritter invaded and things changed. You couldn’t say you understood.

  
Betrayal was something you still had to learn.

  
“We are all likely to avoid killing him until there is no other way to go,” Sado said, as if he finally made peace with the idea, “But if there really is no other way then I suppose yes, all of us are ready to end this one way or another.”

  
You wanted to say something else, possibly along the lines of ‘he sure didn’t seem to give two shits about that when he shot Kurosaki in the back’. The words never made it past your lips.

  
It was none of your business and the distrust you had for the Quincy prince was solely based on emotional impulses. Pantera was unhappy with your reaction; to her it didn’t matter at all. Just another enemy.

  
Then there was Sado’s solemn expression. You owed him for moments of weakness- carrying you on his back when the paralysis numbed your body entirely, guarding your sleep. It bothered you, the concept of debt.

  
“I’ll do it if you can’t,” was what you said, “If you guys are too fucking weak to cut off a rotten limb before it drains you dry.”

  
Sado understood that it was not an insult; it was an offer hidden in phrases and anger that wasn’t there.

  
He laughed quietly and that was all the answer you needed.

  
Rukia awaited you, cloaked in ice with eyes as cold as they never were in Orihime’s stories. By now you had heard so many of them; of the brave shinigami noble who was never arrogant, never faltered, always stayed at the side of those she swore loyalty to.

You never told her you remembered what the intent to kill Rukia was like; the thirst for blood you felt as she believed freezing you could intercept your vendetta.

  
“What’re you doing all this for?” you called out to her and frowned at the slippery ground, “Wanna laugh at everyone when they fall on their asses?”

  
“You should go ahead and demonstrate it, Blue,” Hirako said behind you, landing gracefully with his hands in his pockets, “Promise I won’t laugh.”

  
“The high heels will save you.”

  
Yoruichi laughed as you glared at her for it, her sharp canines exposed. You knew the cat jokes would never end. The fashion-related ones came from out of nowhere.

  
“The heels are great,” Hiraki assured you, “With stilettos you could have used them as weapons, though. Stab some Quincy.”

  
“I doubt anyone would have stopped me had I tried to stab you.”

  
It was an easy answer to roll off your tongue and he looked at you, stunned, for just a moment.

  
“Right here,” you said and tapped his forehead, “Right between the eyes.”

  
You heard him laugh as you walked off, a little indignant and even more prepared to fight now.

  
Rukia just shook her head at you. Her disapproving expression left no doubt what she thought of the banter and your attitude in general, there was no question she-

  
“Should have gone for the ear,” she said and sheathed her sword, “That would look funnier.”

  
“In through one and out the other?” you asked after an instant of surprise.

  
“Exactly.”

  
“Nice. I’ll consider it.”

  
“Don’t take all the credit, Hollow.”

  
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki fought Ishida and the rest of you were left with the second in command; Jugram Haschwalth did not look impressed as the ever-growing group of invaders approached him. You heard Rukia mock his absolutely perfect hair even in the face of an army, not without that shred of appreciation everyone seemed to have at least for the aesthetics of the person Orihime dubbed ‘L'Oréal Quincy’.

  
Yhwach was waiting for a challenger to arrive in his throne room and gave you time to deal with his armada. You wondered exactly how sure of himself he had to be if the group of invaders standing at his front door did not scare him. Or maybe a _god_ did not feel fear at all- just like Aizen had claimed.

  
Haschwalth himself stepped around the many enemies as if they were cracks in the concrete; he sent forth copies of himself, used corpses of his comrades as shields.

  
“Falling asleep there, Grimmjow?” Nel shouted at you and stuck out her tongue as you frowned in her general direction, already dashing into the fray.

 

  
An arrow whirred past your head and you watched it fly towards your enemy before you turned around to check for its source.

  
Orihime smiled at you from the top of a pillar of ice, jumping from platform to platform that appeared beneath her feet. You realized she stepped on empty air _before_ it froze to support her. Rukia would not let her fall.

  
“Eyes on the prize, big boy,” Hirako laughed at you and walked through the air upside down, mockingly lifting his hat as a greeting. The fact that it wasn’t falling told you that he manipulated gravity itself, probably in a field around his body.

  
“Speak for yourself,” you growled as a reply, “Doesn’t look like a prize to me.”

  
“Not your type? I gotta say, that’s a new one.”

  
The implication had shame rushing through your veins again and you averted your eyes just in time to see Orihime’s next barrage of arrows hit their target. It was strange; Haschwalth did not seem very strong, his reiatsu was on par with some of the captain’s. There was no way it wasn’t a trap.

  
“He wants to die,” Urahara said at your side and made you flinch, “He is waiting for us to kill him to rejoin his king.”

  
“Nothing we can do about it,” Hirako commented and frowned, “We have to get rid of him sooner or later.”

  
You spun Pantera around over the back of your hand and grinned at the battle below, sending a spurt of reiatsu into your zanpakuto to wake her up.

  
“Sooner sounds great,” you said and shifted without using the command, fit the skin of the Segunda Etapa right over yours. All their planning and cunning evaluation of the enemy was vital but boring; if there was value in beheading Haschwalth you would do it without another second of hesitation.

  
There were a lot of shinigami captains trying to get a hit on Yhwach’s right hand man.

  
You recognized the one who was fast and stung like a wasp; pierced your skin twice to see you fall immediately. There was Rukia’s brother who commanded a storm of flowers with the flick of his wrist, Abarai whose Bankai wrapped around his enemies to crush them right out of their skin.

  
Others were injured and nowhere to be seen; the ones that killed Starrk and Szayel had not made it here. It was of little consequence to you.

  
Sado brushed past you and it was only then you took your time assessing the situation. Haschwalth was fending the attackers off fairly well but that could be attributed to the fact that no one wanted to go all-out before he showed his abilities.

  
Desgarrón cut five of his copies apart with a single slash.

  
With that he was alone; one Quincy against the mass of people who came to take his empire.

  
“I see,” he said and the world listened to him as if those were his final words, “You leave me no choice.”

  
Something slammed into you from above, dragged you down between the buildings in free fall. Your first impulse was to let the spikes on your armor pierce your assailant but you recognized their reiatsu quickly enough. Instead of killing them straight away you reached out and grabbed a hold of their leg. Before you could slam them into the nearest stone wall you crashed into the roof of a building. Debris and rubble followed line your fall as you coughed and sputtered your way two stories down.

  
“Shit,” you said, wheezing, “You could have just said something.”

  
“We need your Garganta,” Yoruichi said and brushed the dirt off her pants, “You were too close to him and would have been crushed right away.”

  
You sneered, got up, looked to the sky where Haschwalth no longer stood.

  
“What’s the plan?” you asked.

  
Yoruichi stretched her arms above her head, grinned at you with the expression of someone who was very sure they would win this war. You knew better, noticed the tension in her muscles and the worry in every little glance up to the sky.

  
“I’m not one for the big plans, Blue,” she said and you realized there was bitterness in those words.

  
“So you follow that shinigami bastard’s lead.”

  
Yoruichi shifted, disapproving.

  
“Kisuke knows what he’s doing for the most part. Unless he turns out to be totally wrong I will give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  
She wasn’t confident about the answer she gave you and there was more to be said, doubts that needed to be brought to the surface. Not now, though.

  
Urahara was so similar to Aizen in the way he planned and strategized- you disliked it and the uncertainty that came with listening to him.

  
“What was he-” you began and looked over your shoulder to find her gone already. It didn’t sit right with you she saw it fit to protect you.

  
_Need your Garganta_. And they did; because Nel could not keep hers sustained for long enough because she wasn’t used to it. It was a problem you encountered early on during your training in Hueco Mundo; also the reason it was you who they needed to notify as soon as they made their way into the Soul King’s palace. So even if their higher-ups hated your attitude they acknowledged you were the practical choice.

  
“What was he _doing_? Oh, if you had listened to me earlier then you might have known, Grimmjow. The sparkles did blind you. Unless you were not referring to dear Jugram at all.”

  
Askin yelped as Desgarrón shot out to pierce the wall right beside his head.

  
“Oh, _come on_. Isn’t it obvious by now I am not going to stab you in the back? Not that I would _stab_ anyway, that does seem a little unrefined.”

  
Despite Pantera’s protests you felt like he wasn’t lying.

  
“Is this about another deal?” you asked, “What, you’re gonna offer me your king’s head on a platter now?”

  
“It could also be his still beating heart, that would be so painfully symbolic. I’d love that.”

  
You glared at him until he caved, fighting down the heat rushing to your face.

  
“Yes, alright,” Askin relented, “I’m here for another deal. I’ll get you past Haschwalth so you can help Kurosaki destroy Yhwach and in exchange for that you’ll open a Garganta to the human world for me.”

  
“Desertion, huh?”

  
“Who do you think is going to be the next target of ‘his majesty’s grand and almighty Auswählen’? I for one would prefer not to die here.”

  
You watched him as he wandered closer, trailing his spidery fingers over the debris at his side. He occasionally glanced up at you, blinked slowly with hooded eyes.

  
“So? Do we have an agreement?” he asked, carefully.

  
Above you there was a loud explosion and a scream; the swirl of reiatsus wavered and you wondered who it hit this time. The heavy bulk of Kurosaki’s power was still there, unmistakable among many others. It was moving, though, as if he was suddenly urged to give chase.

  
“See?” Askin murmured, “They need to take the fight inside. You better hurry.”

  
His voice was meant to lull you into a sense of safety, persuasive and jovial. You grudgingly admitted to yourself that you knew him well enough to see through it.

  
“What’s wrong?” you asked, “Getting scared?”

  
He paused, close now.

  
“I don’t know what you mean-”

  
“Don’t fuck with me. You’re shaking.”

  
And he was; and his smile faltered for a second. Askin narrowed his eyes a little. Still scared, still squirming in the unrelenting grip of his king.

  
“They’ll notice I am gone soon enough and they’ll make sure I regret it,” he said with a sigh, “It’s not as easy to get away during the oh-so-climactic final battle as it was before, you see. So, if you could just decide-”

  
“Do it. Get me up there.”

 

* * *

 

 

And he did.

  
You followed him through alleys and streets you would have never chosen; up the tower, into the depth of the maze and its conclusion. For a good while you were convinced this was the moment he would lead you into a trap, strip you off your skin and poison every last of your thoughts. Pantera bristled while she laughed.

  
Askin kept his word for the only reason there was- a life to save even if it was only his own. You didn’t judge. It was a thought you shared.

  
“How do you know I won’t just shoot you in the back as soon as you try to leave?” you asked him, vaulting over a collapsed building. The reiatsus of everyone involved in the fight against Haschwalth were still close, still vibrant. You saw some of them burn out, others light up like beacons.

  
“Just a feeling,” Askin answered and gestured you to stop, checking his surroundings, “If I’m wrong, well, what a shame.”

  
The Vandenreich’s empire was crumbling, he was just the last reminder. With a mad king at the top and nothing but the promise of death below there was little reason to doubt a deserter.

  
“You’re a fool,” Pantera told you once again, “A few nice words and pretty smiles and your anger turns to dust.”

  
Another jump through the empty air; sonido was not slower than hirenkyaku. A tower atop all towers, the final stage of this war. It felt like an eternity had passed since you saw your people being slaughtered in the desert.

  
Askin skidded to a stop before its entrance, light on his feet and still with that duplicity he could not shake. Like Aizen, like Urahara; but you saw his desperation as something more honest than their cold deliberation.

  
“Well then,” he said, tense from the tips of his fingers to the corner of his eyes, “Deal?”

  
“So this is the one, huh?” were the words that interrupted you and had Askin spinning around with reiatsu blistering on his palm.

  
It was Yoruichi- who else would it be?- who awaited you. She sauntered closer; but in her casual movements you saw the will to strike and end all of this in just an instant.

  
“We’re done here, aren’t we?” Askin addressed you over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off her, “You have all you wanted.”

  
He was nervous, saw his hope fading right before his shaking hands. Sand through the cracks between his fingers, as fleeting as that wish for freedom.

  
Yoruichi was looking at you, not Askin, gauged your reaction and you doubted she liked what she saw.

  
For a brief second you left them both in suspense, as if you still had to decide what to do. Pantera was quiet now, waiting, since she was unconvinced you would choose at all. One side or the other, as if it made a difference. As if anyone had to ease you into a choice.

  
The Garganta opened with its usual grizzly sound, a tear into one world to lead into another. Nothing but blackness awaited and for a second you considered running, too.

  
“Deal’s a deal,” you growled and never took your eyes off Yoruichi. Hers narrowed dangerously.

  
“Deal’s a deal,” Askin repeated and nodded at you, “Good luck killing a king, then.”

  
He was gone within a second, no hesitation at all, waving you goodbye without looking back. As if there was anywhere to run. As if he trusted you; or didn’t care enough not to.

  
You wondered if you would have chosen to follow Aizen into battle had he demanded it; had you not escaped that decision when Nnoitra tore into you with a crescent moon of a weapon. Maybe there was a place for you at the side of the other Espada and their war, but at this instant you didn’t feel like it. There was no good cause to fight for, just a home and a name you had to earn for yourself. Hueco Mundo needed no king, but you were still in need of Hueco Mundo.

  
“You trust him?” Yoruichi asked and you got the feeling she knew how wrong that was. A formality. A game you grew tired of.

  
“Not for one second,” you answered and walked past her as if that could crush a stalemate, “We gotta go, don’t we?”

  
She approved, somehow, a smile on her face you didn’t have to see.

  
“Watch out, Blue,” Yoruichi said and caught up with you without any trouble, “Might lose your reputation as a big bad Hollow if you continue like this.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were only a few people inside Yhwach’s throne room; Kurosaki and his human friends, the Quincy successor, one of the captains whose name you didn’t know, and Rukia.

  
From outside you heard explosions. The smell of burned flesh, of singed hair and reiatsus carving new lines into soft skin.

  
Your memory of that day were fragile and blurry, the end of all things merging into one colorful stream of impressions.

  
What you recalled was blocking a hit meant for someone, anyone, with the side of your neck; a clean cut that left another scar- the third. The fourth ran across your face over the bridge of your nose like a strange marking or war paint.

  
Ishida changed his mind at the last second, with Rukia’s blade on his throat and Orihime’s shield holding his king in place. You didn’t care for his reasons or sob stories; it was too late for that in your eyes. He screamed just like the others when Yhwach used his Auswählen and all of them died for him; _you_ would have let him die.

  
Kurosaki and his friends thought differently and dragged the story out of him, talked and talked until Yhwach himself silenced them.

 

Orihime protected all of you; even Ishida, especially Ishida. He had his place with them after all this time. All you heard was his talk of explosives strewn all across the palace; prepared to blow apart the _Wahrwelt_ in the blink of an eye.

  
Yhwach let Haschwalth’s reiatsu vanish outside of the palace- the last stand and the only one on his side was himself. You spared him no pity, only a cero.

 

* * *

 

 

The entire building crumbled. So you fell again, down into the city, to watch Kurosaki finish his fight up in the air. Useless, this time. No way to get your revenge for Hueco Mundo.

  
It was the monumental reiatsu of the Quincy king that forced you downwards like drops in a downpour, no chance to defy gravity.

  
You did not need to meet Yoruichi’s eyes to know what your job was; a wave of a broken hand and the Garganta bit through the air below you and the others, swallowing you whole, spitting you out at a safer place far below.

  
Kurosaki did not need your help; as if he was a weapon to be launched at every threat, hoping he could magically fix it. He released a hurricane of reiatsu far above the Soul King’s palace, more Hollow than human, more Quincy than shinigami.

  
You could have been scared of it if you tried, feeling like an ant before an imploding star.

  
What you remembered instead was that annoying laugh, the freckles on the bridge of his nose.

  
Disgustingly, irrevocably human.

 

* * *

 

 

The war barely lasted a month and the promise of another thousand years couldn’t be kept. You didn’t care much for its history, you were more concerned with how it ended. It was too easy, too clean a cut.

  
_What kind of future would someone like Yhwach be ready to sacrifice everything for?_

 

* * *

 

 

The war was over and with its conclusion came another period of uncertainty and this time you had even less idea how to handle it. Last time you were driven by the shinigami’s invasion and the idea of them coming to torture you; you ran then and you ran now. Feeling strangely detached from the war you returned to Hueco Mundo.

  
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Hirako commented as he followed you through the Garganta, “Now where are those Quincy?”

  
“They might have fled,” Nel answered his question and walked ahead, into the sand and dunes, “Yhwach’s death should have been obvious enough. The shockwave ran through all the worlds.”

  
“How do you know?”

  
“Ichigo said his sisters felt it too and tried to call him while he was still up there.”

  
The kept on talking while you held the Garganta open, waiting for the last two people to pass through.

  
“I am glad you get to go home, too, Jaegerjaquez-kun,” Orihime said as she passed you by. You hummed in reply, pleased but not too excited. Rukia did not say anything to you but she followed her friend out into the desert with no complaints.

  
Three of them to help you out, the only few you managed to ask. Not so much with words but rather with the way you handled yourself whenever someone spoke of Hueco Mundo and Harribel.

  
“You look like you are about to jump to your feet and storm off to help them any second,” was what Hirako told you even while you were fighting Yhwach, “Like waiting is burning you alive.”

  
He rarely spoke like that, only if he had to. Most of the time his moods were more playful and teasing; the concern was rare and confusing. Vexing, only sometimes.

  
“So, we break into the castle, destroy their reinforcements and save the queen?” Hirako asked you now and grinned his wide smile that always seemed to include more teeth than humanly possible.

  
“Yes.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
Nel and you spoke at the same time; she shouted something at you about a game she learned about that required you to be silent until she freed you. You rolled your eyes at her and kept walking, their bickering a background noise.

 

* * *

 

 

As you walked into Las Noches you were greeted by a creature encased in ice, a knight with reiatsu wrapped so tightly around them they seemed to pulsate even to the naked eye. You saw their shadow, too- horned and tall, matching and surpassing you in height. The sheer force of their power caused your head to spin. A quick look to the side told you that your companions were just as rattled.

  
As the creature turned so did your impressions; from terror to awe, from confusion to careful recognition.

  
“Harribel,” Nel breathed and pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips, “It’s Harribel.”

  
“Are you sure?” Rukia asked her, “It doesn’t look like an Arrancar at all.”

  
You had to agree with her; the Hollow in front of you looked like a Vasto Lorde, completely shielded by ice and armor. But her reiatsu felt too familiar to ignore; a cascade but never not controlled, never not fair towards those she respected.

  
This version of her stared you down with eyes of coal. Then she roared and you saw the rows upon rows of teeth hiding beneath that first unhinged jaw.

  
The shockwave whirled past you and ruffled your hair, stung in your eyes. Her scream was feral and yet you knew exactly what she was seeing before her eyes, what thoughts she had. The crescent moon above, _a hell floating in a sea of blood_. It was not like she had ever spoken to you like you were close; and truthfully, you were not. But there was something you shared without a doubt, the aching in your bones and immeasurable fear of a Hollow.

  
Here, in front of you, she slowly morphed back into the shape you knew her in. The ice and armor melted away and she set foot on the floor of Las Noches as if she had never been captured at all.

  
“Oh,” she said and her shark teeth clicked together, “I’m afraid I did not expect you. I was in the middle of exterminating some pests.”

  
You rolled your eyes and saw the mirth in hers, an overwhelming happiness hidden by her taciturn mask. She was free. She was alive.

  
The queen ascended your throne even if she had to dig her way to the surface from a Quincy prison. Claws and teeth, blade and nail. Over and over again, as long as she had to.

  
Harribel crushed a Quincy’s head with the heel of her boot.

  
“Welcome back to Las Noches.”

 

* * *

 


	30. all you had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just proofread this and basically I spent the entire time making this :C face dont even get me started
> 
> do you ever start a longfic that is kinda sorta rly angsty and then half-way through you are like "bitch why this" and then you sit there weeping over your three 50k documents??
> 
> im asking for a friend

* * *

 

 

So the war was over and you returned to your home, feeling smaller and more tired than ever before. The first week you spent wandering aimlessly once more, by yourself, shutting out every bit of advice or critique Pantera yelled at you. You wanted it quiet, the world and everything in it. You wanted it to stop for a while.

  
On the seventh day you returned to Las Noches and you curled up in what used to be your quarters, slept with your zanpakuto clutched close to you and an eye on the door at all times. What used to be restlessness was paranoia again; you waited for someone to kick in the wall and make you a slave again. Aizen offered you power and you were too young and too weak to refuse him; you wanted it all, all the strength he had to offer and all the strength you would need to crush those in your way.

  
Now you remembered Orihime and how she had smiled as you walked the halls of this home again. You remembered Sado giving you a thumbs up before you left.

  
Others who suddenly knew more about you than the name of your kind.

  
It should have been easy now, with the war gone and all the time in the world at your disposal. Yet you still doubted and still didn’t fit into your skin; a hollow shell with weak flesh spanned across hardened bones.

  
It couldn’t be over. It never was.

 

* * *

 

 

Soul Society’s halls were not as sterile as Las Noches’; they were higher and warmer and so bright with sunlight you had trouble keeping your eyes open.

  
“Pretty cool, huh?” Abarai asked you and his grin mellowed into something more resigned, “When I went to Hueco Mundo I thought I’d never see the sun again, to be honest.”

  
You were about to tell him that you didn’t care; that this did not inspire jealousy or awe in you, only aversion and distrust.

  
Nel beat you to it; she chastised Abarai in a teasing manner, reminded him that he was only in your home for a short time and couldn’t know what it was like. You agreed with her- Hueco Mundo was a world you couldn’t understand as a shinigami, not in its entirety. Its air clung to your lungs and its call never ceased.

  
The Soul Society called for representatives to negotiate now that the war had ended, a formal agreement with the creatures they despised and slaughtered wherever they could.

  
Harribel advised you to go-

  
“ _Because you will not take their deal if it is unfair_ ,” she answered your question as you asked it, “ _Because diplomacy is fine while subservience is not_.

  
So you walked these bright streets behind Nelliel, watchful, vigilant.

  
“You’re tense,” she told you and poked your side, “We’ll be fine.”

  
“Shut up.”

  
“You shut up!”

 

* * *

 

 

Hollows did not belong here; you felt like a cynic would argue you did not belong anywhere at all. Even a world to suit your kind, an empty desert, was taken from you so easily.

  
Soul Society hurt you before it even allowed you deep into its gut; pulsated and radiated loathing as you entered.

  
In here you were small again, an Adjuchas with everything left to lose and a contract of flesh and blood inscribed in yours. Signed, sold.

  
“You aren’t just here to show us around, right?” you asked Abarai as you stepped through one of the large gates that lead you into the Seiretei. It was the first time you came here without a war crushing all its buildings into a new era. The signs of the battle were unmistakable still. Up in the sky you saw the caricature of a palace, remodeled and full of holes like moldy bread.

  
“They’re gonna hold a trial soon,” Abarai answered and rubbed the back of his head, “For the Quincy who survived.”

  
“Huh? They’re not all dead?”

 

“Apparently some survived even the last Auswählen,” he answered, “Like, y’know, the guys who helped us. Liltotto something, the zombie girl and, uh, y’know.”

  
“I don’t, actually.”

  
“The one I told you about before. He’s alive and in prison here, guess they wanna make sure none of them are about to go invade some other places now.”

  
You sneered and didn’t stop to look at the high walls and bright sky. Such a vibrant world, so alive for a realm of dead people. You hated it just like it hated you. Jealousy was just the surface.

  
Shinigami watched you walk among them and they judged you still because after all this time you were still Hollow and still the vermin infesting their home. The other way around now.

  
“And yet you have shinigami by your side,” Pantera mumbled, sleepy, “You like all those humans, you let your guard down, you don’t even consider killing all of them here. Even if you could. Even if you should.”

 

* * *

 

 

The shinigami’s head captain looked tired as he granted you a meeting. The last time you saw him Lille Barro dropped his and his lieutenant’s corpse into the bowels of the Quincy city. There were cuts across his face now that spoke of his long way down.

  
He spoke to Nel because you were scowling and leaning against one of the pillars instead of accepting his invitation to sit down. Your memory was excellent when it came to things like these- the spite stayed up there among the grudges.

  
Hirako had offered to come along to make sure you knew neither of you were going to mysteriously vanish; you appreciated that he understood your paranoia, didn’t flinch away as he patted your shoulder.

  
The head captain didn’t seem to relate quite as much but you could see him try.

  
So his eyes flitted over to you from time to time, curious and waiting for an explanation he would not get. You remembered what he said about Starrk, how he felt about letting Aizen out of his prison when he should be _dead dead dead_.

  
“Our queen asks for a non-aggression treaty,” Nel said and folded her hands on the table, “Diplomatic immunity, if you so want. That includes freedom from persecution for anything deemed a crime under Aizen’s rule as well as any acts of violence against Arrancar outside of self-defense.”

  
She did not sound angry and never raised her voice. It was easy to forget how powerful she was if all you saw was her childish side.

  
The captain commander seemed to be amused rather than surprised. Your jaw hardened thinking about their patronizing looks. _Hollows have a brain, have a sense of self, wishes beyond yours_.

  
“Anything else?”

  
Kyoraku, you first remembered, that was his name. Hirako mentioned him in passing often, lamented the loss of another shinigami connected to the two of them once. Ukitake. A name without a face.

  
“We don’t answer to you,” you said, speaking up for the first time since you came in here and declined offers for any sort of hospitality, “We don’t owe you shit.”

  
And he laughed, a quiet chuckle that could have sent you into a fit of rage. You were tired, though. When you closed your eyes you saw Hueco Mundo burn and its Hollows with it. The Quincy cross in the sky for everyone to see.

  
“ _Diplomatic immunity_ , huh?” Kyoraku repeated slowly, “I suppose I have made worse decisions in the past.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, Arrancar!” Askin said and seemed surprised as you flinched, “Oh, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Did you think I was done and gone, my ashes scattered in the wind?”

  
“Maybe I just didn’t expect you to drop from the fucking sky, asshat.”

  
“You don’t have a penchant for nicknames, do you?” he asked and settled down on the rooftop beside you, resting his chin on his propped up knee.

  
He looked different from the time you met him in the Soul King’s palace; less twitchy. Still charming, you noticed and the warmth was back; still pretty.

  
No one had asked for him as he deserted his army and fled the battlefield- they were busy fighting their own battles. So he made it out without a scratch and shrugged it off now, the betrayal.

  
He was wearing casual human clothes also, not the Quincy’s uniform. Colorful. It suited him.

  
“Not gonna try to take over the world again? Kill some shinigami?” you asked him and dangled your legs over the side of the building.

  
“I could ask you the same. Aren’t Hollows supposed to want nothing but destruction?”

  
“Of course,” you replied and yawned, “Our goal in death.”

  
“Oh whatever shall I do, then?” he gasped and then tapped a finger against his chin, “On second thought, that has a nice ring to it. _Destruction._ Cheers to that.”

  
You teetered on the edge of the roof and wondered how to proceed now- how to move on from being situational allies.

  
“So, the human world, huh?” Askin asked and leaned backwards, “Fancy. Suits you. All raw and dark.”

  
“What are you doing here?”

  
“Oh, you know, the usual. I’m bored, there’s nothing to do except _hide my head in deep, dark sorrow_.”

  
He laughed as you couldn’t hide a smirk and let himself drop onto his back.

  
It was the middle of the night but you could still tell he looked worn out and haunted as if he really had been on the run for months..

  
“Y’know, you could have tried to kill me a thousand times now,” Askin said and looked over to you, “Why don’t you? Do you not consider me a threat? Not that I am complaining, mind you.”

  
You had no answer for him.

  
It was not the last time he asked you; just like it wasn’t the last time he visited you in your chosen exile. At first you were sure he was planning something, a sucker punch you would not recover from.

  
Instead he brought coffee, asked you about Hueco Mundo, traded information about the Silbern in return. You were not a good storyteller at all; you spoke in short sentences and left out details, but Askin didn’t seem to mind. He was more eloquent and went on for hours if you didn’t stop him.

  
“Being human isn’t so bad,” he told you one day in autumn and buried his chilled fingers in one of his ridiculously colorful scarves, “This world isn’t so bad, either.”

  
You didn’t completely understand his words at this point in time; he kept you company anyway. With time you realized you weren’t interrupting him anymore, let him talk, added your thoughts more often than you did not.

  
You talked and listened and started to look forward to it as time passed.

  
At some point he made it a habit to bring coffee for you, too.

  
“Where do you even live?” you asked him once as you strolled through an abandoned park at night, the lantern light soft on your sensitive eyes.

 

“Oh, you wanna come visit some time?” Askin replied, “It’s terrible but, you know, I’m not _askin_ ’ for much.”

  
He only laughed as you shoved him for it, muttering curses under your breath. You weren’t really mad; you were happy, somehow.

  
The summer came and went- the summer didn’t last.

  
“Time’s strange like that,” Askin said as he got way too drunk and weirdly sad, “Moving so, so slowly when you don’t want it to. Rushing when you want it to stop, just for a second.”

  
He lay sprawled out on the rooftop with his head supported by your leg.

  
The warm summer breeze felt nice on your skin, even in the middle of the night. Sometimes he leaned against your shoulder, too; not quite sleeping, not quite awake.

  
Time was calm with him. Of course it didn’t last.

 

* * *

 

 

In restlessness your time felt like snapshots; like no coherent train of thought and no story to tell. You slipped from day to day, doubt to doubt. You were made for war and now that it was gone there was no use for your power and no way for you to approach others.

  
Confusion was colorless, borderline translucent. A film on your eyes you could hardly see through.

 

* * *

 

 

Orihime came to visit you in Hueco Mundo, more often than you ever imagined- not that you expected her to appear at all. Sometimes Sado came with her, sometimes she just dropped by alone or dragged you to the human world.

  
She always knew who you were comfortable with seeing even if that happened to be just her by herself; there were no expectations, no pressure at all.

  
Orihime did this for so many others too; took Nel and the Bestias to the human world to sate their curiosity, trained with Yoruichi and made sure she was there for her human and shinigami friends at all times. She had grown confident, decided she wanted this kindness to be her greatest strength. You were confused how she found time for you among all of it.

  
“You’re my friend,” she said as you asked her why she tried so hard, “So that’s part of the deal.”

  
It was not difficult to believe, not if you were honest with yourself. Thinking back on it she had been the first to welcome you into your group, the one to ask for help and show concern for you, the one who grew more than any of the others and still retained that immeasurable kindness. So there was not much you could do now; Orihime Inoue was your friend and that was that.

  
The stories she told you were those of the human world; of the way her life progressed like a broad river. Always moving but slower now; compared to a war her exams felt small and insignificant. She saw the look in your eyes as she said it.

  
“It sounds ungrateful,” she admitted and bit her lip, “Like suddenly the peace isn’t enough.”

  
“Sounds more like you’re still trying to save the whole world by yourself, dumbass,” you answered and she knew by now to distinguish the true insults from the affectionate ones, “All of you are like that.”

  
“Who?”

  
“Humans.”

  
Orihime started laughing and placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezed down gently. She sat next to you on Las Noches’ roof, stared out into the desert and let her laughter echo off from the gargantuan walls.

  
“You get along pretty well with us,” she said as she saw your inquisitive expression, “For all the, um, grumpiness about humans.”

  
“Grumpiness?”

  
Orihime blushed and gestured wildly as if she was afraid you were actually offended by her choice of words.

  
“Not that that’s a bad thing! I am really glad things turned out this way.”

  
You just snorted and tilted your head back, closed your eyes to ease the strain. Pressure behind your eyeballs, a migraine coming on from sleeping too little and fighting too much. It hurt but you didn’t care an awful lot; just a minor ache, nothing like losing a limb or being gutted.  
  
You bumped your shoulder into hers because you were not really sure how any of this worked. It made Harribel’s opinion of yours even more humiliating- a child who had no idea how to function properly when there was no fight to be fought. You inched closer to Orihime again, reminded yourself this was a good thing. No lies.

  
She laughed and bumped her shoulder against yours, too, kept on smiling.

  
“So I told you about that new shop that opened down my street, right?”

  
“Mhm.”

  
“Please don’t make that face, Jaegerjaquez-kun!”

  
“Yeah, I remember. The ice shop that sells bombs.”

  
And she laughed again, happy and ignoring the fact that she sat on the castle of a bunch of cannibalistic creatures; she ignored that she had been taken hostage her and you dragged her around like dead weight what felt like a decade ago.

  
“It’s ice cream,” she told you and still giggled as you frowned, “And it’s not an actual bomb, it’s just the name of a flavor.”

  
“Same difference.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kurosaki showed up in the desert one day, just like that, no hesitation at all.

  
You felt the pulse of his reiatsu even if you were far away from Las Noches and his destination.

  
“Go on then,” Pantera urged you, “Get that rematch.”

  
You didn’t. You were anxious enough for two worlds.

  
“So what about Grimmjow?”

  
“He is bored. Runs around Hueco Hundo hunting and doing not much else.”

  
You listened to them talk; Kurosaki and Nel, reuniting like friends should and it sparked the jealousy in you once more. How to speak with no words, how to care with no heart.

  
“Why’d you never try to get a Segunda Etapa?” you asked her once as you finished sparring in the desert you reclaimed as yours, as the Arrancar’s.

  
“Oh,” Nel replied and looked up, deep in thought, “I never really thought about it. I only really want strength I need, you know? So if the times comes where I gotta have one of those, I’ll get it.”

  
So simple. It worked for her, saved her from the restlessness and pessimism.

  
Nel was further away from you than Harribel and her fracciónes, further away in the sense that you had trouble understanding how you were the same species. Hollows, hollow, hollowed. There was no other disparity.

  
Nel spoke to shinigami flawlessly and knew what she wanted and how to get it; she pushed a mentality on you that wasn’t all about distancing yourself. In spite of that you never told her you helped a Quincy escape the Vandenreich.

  
Her friendships extended to different people; to Orihime who she accompanied through the cities of the human world for as long as she could, to Yoruichi who showed her Soul Society. There were others, too, that she won over with just her blinding smile and you were glad she was there to remind you Hollows weren’t less than the rest of the world.

  
Nel liked to hug you close for no reason, carded her fingers through your hair.

  
“Look at you,” she said as you stopped grumbling, “My dear and very grumpy lil’ brother.”

  
“We’re _not_ related.”

  
Nel stuck her tongue out at you, poked your ribs, laughed at the face you made only to hug you closer.

 

* * *

 

 

At first you were not sure how to speak to Sado when you were alone; as if he needed a special language to communicate, a special attitude and set of gestures- not unlike you, perhaps. It took a while until you realized his silences were calming rather than a reason to get angrier.

  
Anger was still your default emotion; it was still a strange occurrence to be ushered into new categories of sensation, to be expected to express yourself outside of the patterns you knew as well-trodden and safe.

  
Sado taught you how to write again instead of challenging you to duels- did it so subtly and without judgment that you were unsure how long the process even took.

  
“I remember this shit,” you told him one of the first times, “Those damn souls all learned different languages.”

  
“How many?”

  
“Too fucking many.”

  
Later, in the wasteland, you would miss his calm demeanour, the patience and the gentleness that was such a contrast to his stature and powers.

  
“Like a Hollow’s,” you commented as you first saw Sado’s skeletal arm, “Fucking sweet.”

  
He always had plans for the future, was always quietly confident after making lists after lists to whittle down the possibilities. His introspection was a gift he knew how to use well- for himself and for others, that calm strength, the silent power.

  
His hugs were the best of them all; everyone agreed with that assessment and you stopped pretending to hate it somewhere along the line. Sado made it easy for you to make an effort.

  
When he told you he was proud of where you had managed to get your aggressively stammered dismissive reply was not enough to hide the blush on your face.

  
Sado smiled more than he laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Harribel was the queen of Hueco Mundo even now. She loved her own with a passion and beyond them there was cold and ice.

  
“I spent an eternity in their prison,” she said and no one doubted her, “I have no intention of letting that happen ever again.”

  
She never allowed herself the rest she deserved and needed, hypothetically, as if her body ran on nothing but her fierce will. Harribel was kind to her people, in a helpless, distant fashion. She would protect them from harm with the ferocity of a thousand Hollows, but she could barely convey her protectiveness into words.

  
“We know she loves us,” Mila Rose said once, “Even if she can’t say it, even if that is difficult for her to comprehend. Hell, she cares more than she should.”

  
You could not cage a storm, an ocean.

 

* * *

 

 

The humans told you how to tell the time. They didn’t know you would be counting years in a wasteland. No, they wouldn’t live to see it.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100K THOUGH


	31. down to your ashes]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is the conclusion of the flashback, everyone, I even wrote a little poem in the chapter titles and put it in those cute brackets so y'all can tell ayooo
> 
> Warning for sad (potential)
> 
> I'll be taking a break from things for a bit after this to figure out all the stuff for part 3 before I publish anything terribly contradicting.
> 
> ((((also hey, a shoutout to ao3 user kaleidecs who sadly deleted their account but supported me for a while now and whose opinion I always loved to hear. Whatever you're doing now, I hope you're having a great time and I wanna wish you good luck!)))))

* * *

 

 

 _You trust him so much_ , Pantera told you, _This one silly human boy. Him and all the others._

 

* * *

 

 

‘Forever’ was a fairy tale, for all of you.

 

* * *

 

 

Summer came and went in the human world and with it arrived the third assault; a change in the air, a ripple running through the worlds as the Soul King’s palace was torn to shreds by an explosion.

  
You awoke.

  
You ran.

  
You failed to make a deal at the bottom of the Soul King’s palace.

  
You looked at its burning remains crashing down into Soul Society, watched the people fall like stars. Then your mind was torn from you.

 

* * *

 

 

When you awoke in the wasteland you thought it was a joke. It had to be; there was no way someone would just rip away everything you needed so long to build and put together. But when you got to your feet and the world was all wrong and twisted you began to understand that no, this was real; this was the end and you were alone.

  
In the human world you learned there was a sun and a moon that changed; a billion stars. Out here there was nothing and no one, a true eternity of sand.

  
You walked, deliriously, clutching those memories close and your hope closer. It had to be a fever dream; one of those horrible nightmares that you could wake up from to find someone you cared for beside you.

  
All of that, all of them: gone.

  
The worst part was not accepting that it was over. You could tell yourself to forget and let go all you wanted because the small inkling of hope never really died out. Not when you were dragged in front of the Quincy government and the few Espada it installed; not before that, back in the prison camps. They took their time cutting off your arm.

  
Kurosaki was the one you asked for first; then Orihime, Rukia, Sado, Nel; Askin, still, even in this kingdom of Quincy. Any familiar names, any one person you knew who could explain to you why this happened, why that one day in the middle of autumn had to fuck up everything.

  
Hope was a horrible thing when it was taken from you. You could have brushed this off before, buried your mind in anger and acceptance through denial. Like this, with half a mind and heart still happy, it only hurt for far too long.

  
Nel arrived soon and you saw her curl up and cry over those who didn’t make it before she realized the Soul King had not considered her a threat. Killed too few in either of the wars, stayed too far at the side.

  
She went with Harribel and you resented her for a long time, brushed off her concern.

  
Luppi was civil at first; angry but not cruel apart from putting up a show when you were mutilated.

  
“It’s what they want to hear so they know you will be punished,” he said and shrugged, “It’s just a damn play out here.”

  
He changed again, of course.

  
Askin was among the ranks of the Quincy and averted his eyes from the wasteland. Back in his uniform you barely recognized him as he crawled back to the top of their command, dealing with everything and death. His betrayal hurt you so much more than you could have anticipated.

  
The Espada formed anew under Harribel as a second instance to keep the Hollows in check; the world was coming together as fleshy pink pulp.

 

* * *

 

 

The first night Starrk spent with you out in the wasteland you woke up with him cuddled close to you. Your first impulse was to shove him away into the sand, get some distance between your warm skin and his.

  
Before this you had not spent an awful lot of time alone with him; not beyond the Espada meetings and the occasional chance meeting in the corridors of Las Noches. Starrk had never been an enemy or a friend, something in-between. Out here he was even lonelier than before- and you understood and acknowledged that.

  
More importantly, he was warm and comfortable and you fell asleep again leaning against him. Somehow you knew he wouldn’t hurt you; even if you were suspicious to the core his reiatsu moved so gently against yours you could not help feeling calm.

  
It reminded you of the time before, of all that you didn’t have anymore.

  
“Why would I hurt you?” he said as you asked him once, “We were both Espada and now we are both trapped out here. All I would gain from killing you is more grief.”

  
You shook your head then, cursed his weak heart and your own with it. _Sympathy_ was what you felt, a sense of understanding. It should be impossible, with nothing to base it on. The war gave you a reference.

  
“You are not as destructive as I remember,” Starrk told you once as he huddled closer to you at your approval, “So much time has passed.”

  
“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, without thinking, “Fought a war against an empire.”

  
“You should tell me about it sometime.”

  
“Maybe I will.”

  
Instead you stayed in silence. Besides your breathing and the sound of the wind moving lazily through the settlements around Las Noches there was nothing out here, no sign of life.

  
“It all stays the same,” Starrk murmured and sounded ancient, “Just another desert.”

  
“I’d take Hueco Mundo over this any day.”

  
“Maybe. Lilynette was alive there, at least.”

  
To you it had always been incomprehensible how someone like him could be the strongest of you, the Primera who didn’t want to fight at all.

  
“She might be alive somewhere out there, too,” you found yourself saying and it sounded weak even to you; an easy lie.

  
“No,” Starrk answered and sighed, “She’s already gone again. I would know if she wasn’t.”

  
“But-”

  
“You know how it works out here. Whatever remains from the world before is more stable for some; inevitably everyone wakes up here and then this is the end of the line.”

  
“Fuck, you’re depressing.”

  
Starrk laughed and leaned against your shoulder, eyes still fixed on the lifeless sky.

  
“ _This_ is depressing,” he said and gestured up at whatever there was, “Is there still something you’re waiting for?”

  
“Maybe.”

  
“Will you tell me about it sometime?”

  
You stayed quiet. Starrk was still a warm presence, still a little bit of color out here. That didn’t change the fact that he was never truly around, though, felt like nothing but a shadow to you because he took his time fading away.

  
“I’m glad you’re here,” you said and immediately wanted to go back and add an insult, a curse, if only to make it sound less desperate. Luppi was somewhere out there. There was no second arm at your side. Everyone you loved was dead, dead, dead.

  
So you did not go back on what you said and it hung out in the open, as raw as a gaping wound on your chest. Torn open, left to bleed out. _Drain him, drain him dry._

  
“The sky’s either grey or black,” Starrk told you and laughed humorlessly, “I am not too fond of the colors anymore.”

  
He was hurt, too, since the prison camps and maybe before. A dark pattern spreading out from the edges of his Hollow hole. He was falling apart, a cracked mirror, painfully scraping together the shards. But some were lost in the desert, forever missing, _Lilynette_ scrawled across it in letters you couldn’t read.

  
“I don’t think the Quincy want their victory anymore,” Starrk said and still ignored your confession, “I think they regret following their majesty into this.”

  
“Who wouldn’t? Would you have followed Aizen into this hell?”

  
“I did, didn’t I? It could be him up there.”

  
Aizen, the king in the sky. Another one he had taken from you. Another time a set of eyes was watching you from far above, the ant below.

  
“Who else could it be?” Starrk asked and your stomach turned.

  
“No one,” you answered and shuddered, “No one at all.”

  
Soon he would walk away by himself, leave something for you and him to find to guide the way back if he made it.

  
And that was where it began anew; in the wasteland, in the rain.

 

* * *

 


	32. slice and dice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to the wasteland amiriteeeee
> 
> warnings for: the first of the gore scenes. like there is one that I consider worse but this includes like, self-mutilation, blood, body horror, etc so be careful pals and buddies

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the blink of an eye Aaroniero’s blade turned into a thinner sword, barely even a dagger, with a tip as pointy as a needle. A pinprick pain on your left shoulder and you knew with a sudden clarity that this was where the joke ended and you had to run; two inches to the left was enough for now and almost an impossibility.

  
Where the blade connected you could feel something grow across the skin, a pattern, a parasite. You knew what shape it would take when it finished, knew what happened if it was allowed to stay for too long.

  
Pantera howled in the same second as you drew her; your thoughts in sync with your beating heart as a metronome.

  
Words were not going to save you now; you dashed to the side, uncaring if sonido drained all your ureserves. Death was not kind enough to wait for you to recover.

  
A third sting to your side as you jumped backwards, the fourth on your cheek where the blade grazed bone. It scraped along your mask next and you knew they were playing with you now, a game of catch with a set winner since your speed barely matched. You danced on the edge of their sword and you would soon fall; there was no doubt about it.

  
Aaroniero was still the one you saw as you turned to see their next attack coming; the same Hollow with a red glass tank as a head, the same Hollow Ggio the brat wanted dead because he was ‘annoying’. You wondered how long it hadn’t been Aaroniero in there.

  
Even his weapon was what he had used even if you felt how the true blade was shaped. Sometimes it glimpsed through for just the fraction of a second; gold and black, spiraling along a chain.

  
Then she lunged for you a last time, prepared to stab right through the first flower on your chest. You saw her coming and caught her wrist; her leg swiftly rammed into your injured shoulder and you blacked out for just a moment. Long enough.

  
She grasped your chin and raised her hand with the stinger on it, ready to end you without delay. Her disguise still flickered and faded even from up close; as if Aaroniero was trying to persist and push through even when he was long gone.

  
“I know where she is,” you said, your words jumbled because they contained only as much sense as she deemed them worthy of, “I know where Yoruichi is.”

  
It was a cheap tactic but you wanted to stay alive.

  
The disguise shattered in a million pieces.

 

* * *

 

 

_The Soul King’s palace was a strange place for you but also many of the others; the shinigami and the Quincy alike. Where Askin saw the possibility to escape to a calmer world there were only bars and fences in Yoruichi’s mind._

  
_From the very beginning she was the one who instigated all the teasing that kept you on edge, she laughed unabashed and poked your side when you were lost in thought. Her fighting style worked well in conjunction with yours and she quickly realized that, instrumented that passion for victory within you._

  
_“C’mon, you blue little kitten,” she laughed as you scowled at her, “Catch me if you can.”_

  
_You did catch her at some point but it took you many hours and failed attempts to get close to her without the help of your resurrección. Thanks to Aizen and the Arrancar transformation you were more attuned to a fighting style that utilized weapons and your energy; something that contrasted with the form Pantera helped you take. Yoruichi ushered you into the mindset of using both; combining weapons and combat that only required your body._

  
_“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” she said and balanced your zanpakuto on a lone finger, “You narrow-minded Hollow, you.”_

  
_It was always a joke to her; everything and everyone. You saw it as she fought her own people turned into zombies, as she was crushed into the ground with broken ribs. There was no point where the game ended and the war began._

  
_And then there was the captain who was in love with her; so clearly and obviously even you had no trouble identifying the emotion. Unlike Rukia and Orihime it was not worn on the sleeve; instead Soifon hid it clumsily beneath a dismissive attitude and a facade of anger. At first you were sure Yoruichi was just making fun of her, too, as she pretended not to notice- but as time went on that seemed less and less likely._

 

* * *

 

 

_“Captain Soifon seems very taken with you still.”_

  
_“Oh yes, she is, definitely.”_

  
_“Captain Soifon has waited for you all this time, Yoruichi-san.”_

  
_“Did she? Aw, never thought she cared.”_

  
_“Soifon is staring at you again.”_

  
_“Nothing new then.”_

  
_“Soifon seems interested in you still.”_

  
_“You think so?”_

 

* * *

 

 

_Yoruichi changed her mind every time, grinned and yawned and denied her way through it all._

  
_The only reason why you cared was because Soifon despised you; a Hollow in their midst who also happened to work for a man she hated. It was all the reason she needed._

  
_Of course there was not much time for her to show it but it was enough for your tastes. An upturned nose, a look of disdain. She looked down on you._

  
_“Aw, come on, Blue,” Yoruichi laughed as she saw your facial expression after Soifon passed you, “Don’t be disappointed, there are other girls out there for you.”_

  
_It was a joke and you took it as such, generously._

  
_“Are you sure you’re not projecting, idiot?” you asked and sneered, “Better get your shit together or this’ll fuck up all your great plans.”_

  
_Yoruichi paused and looked at you, evaluating, as if she finally understood._

  
_“Oh. So you figured it out in such a short time. Perceptive, aren’t you?”_

  
_Before she could revert to her goofy persona you walked away, disinterested in their quarrel. What you cared about was their feeling of superiority- because it was there, in their eyes and gestures and you wanted it gone already._

 

* * *

 

 

So even if you didn’t care then and weren’t going to now you knew what to say to make her stop in the middle of the killing blow.

  
“What did you say?” she asked and her voice was rough from disuse, “Say that again, Hollow.”

  
“I met Yoruichi,” you hissed and hoped your glare conveyed your hatred.

  
“Where?” was all Soifon asked, curt and cold, the last of Aaroniero’s image fading from her features. You didn’t know how she had done it or for how long she had kept it up, but with the way things were going you would probably never find out. The only one you knew who could create such an elaborate illusion was-

  
“ _Where?_ ” Soifon repeated and the tip of her weapon threatened to pierce the flower below your collarbone.

  
“In the prison camps,” you said, “Inside Las Noches.”

  
The pressure on your chest vanished and you were far away from her within a second, as if burned by her very presence. Even as you saw happiness in her eyes you remembered the disgust people like her reserved for you.

  
“Aaroniero Arruruerie is dead,” Soifon declared, “If I see you again, you will meet the same fate, Hollow.”

  
“Can’t wait,” you bit back at her, brushing some dirt off your clothes, “Do I have to ask nicely for you to remove your marks?”

  
She frowned at you; the lines on your skin vanished after a second of hesitation.

  
“How’d you do that?” you asked her.

  
“A cloaking device. We had one among the four of us out there. Now, where is Yoruichi?”

  
You just shrugged.

  
Soifon lifted her weapon once more and you spoke fast to stop her from attacking.

  
“She went deeper inside.”

  
“Alright.”

  
A curt reply, worry clear on her face. There was a smudge of dirt over the bridge of her nose, a tremor in her fingers.

  
Then she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Harribel stopped you on your way out, a queen with everything but a world to rule. Her figure was imposing even when she wasn’t flaring her reiatsu. An army of a thousand Vasto Lorde could have confronted her right here and you would have bet on her without hesitation.

  
To her you were still a child.

  
“How long have you known she was there?” you asked. No time to waste.

  
“A long time now.”

  
“You could have told me.”

  
“No one knows where you stand, Grimmjow,” Harribel said and stared you down with the eyes of someone whose views were legitimized by the very fabric of the universe, “Not even I do.”

  
“So what, that makes it okay for me to be tossed aside like trash?” you snapped and your heart hurt because being abandoned was something you had never been able to deal with well.

  
Harribel did not seem apologetic- and you knew why, knew exactly that she was right even though your pride made you hate the thought.

  
“You disappeared when all of this started,” she told you, “Only to turn up as a fracción to someone, refusing to share any information with the rest of us. What am I supposed to make of that in a world where none of our thoughts are our own?”

  
You looked away from her neutral expression, that expectant consideration.

  
“I need a favor,” you said.

  
She bristled and moved away from the shadow of the wall, stepped closer to you until you could see the long row of teeth that made up her mask.

  
“I can’t give you time,” she said, “Before the Soul King comes for you. If you are going to remove his infection he will know and he will not hesitate.”

  
“That’s not it.”

  
”Elaborate.”

  
You took a deep breath, in the darkness, in the empty air, with the corpses of Aaroniero and Shawlong fresh on your mind. More Arrancar dead, more people you used to consider allies- in a sense, at least.

  
“There are two humans out there, in the outskirts,” you said and clenched your fingers into a fist, “Keep them safe.”

  
“That’s a surprise.”

  
Harribel sounded curious, not judgmental. You didn’t know how to thank her for that without embarrassing yourself.

  
“What’s so special about them that you would risk being indebted to me?” she asked.

  
A heartbeat passed and you had to decide, finally, to share a secret.

  
“They are Kurosaki’s sisters. I promised him I wouldn’t let them get killed.”

  
Such an easy thing to swear, a good cause to pledge allegiance to. She would not doubt it because it was a lie that came to you as easy as a traumatizing memory. That was not the promise you had given, no matter how much you wished it was.

  
“You will enter Las Noches,” Harribel stated.

  
“Yeah.”

  
No more lies. You needed to go. She needed to listen.

  
”Have you ever considered who you will face in there?” was what she asked and you froze, your worst fears crashing down on you like water rushing into the drain. All at once, the undertow forever powerful.

  
“The Soul King,” you said and swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Of course it will be the Soul King.”

  
“There were only so many people present when the Soul King was reborn. Yhwach, Aizen, you, and Kurosaki with some of his friends. For all you know it could be him doing all this. What then, Grimmjow?”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s done,” was all you said to Ggio as he came to check on you, “Aaroniero is gone.”

  
He stared at you with wide eyes, took in the black blood dripping from your empty sleeve. It was the end and he saw it with the first glance.

 

  
“Uh-” he began and got up from from his seat outside Las Noches. It looked like he had expected you; as if he could not bear waiting another second.

  
“-so I owe you a favor now?”

  
“Remove the mark,” you snapped and stepped so close to him you were sure the smell of your blood had to be overpowering, “Now. No more excuses.”

  
“But-”

  
“Do you think it will fucking matter if you have a fracción or not if this continues?” you interrupted him, “I don’t have the time for this shit.”

  
Ggio shifted and produced something like non-committal noises in the back of his throat.

  
“Are you gonna kill the Soul King?” he asked after a moment and looked down at his fingernails as if they could provide him with an answer, “If I do this?”

  
“Does it matter?”

  
“It seems like a good thing now. This place is nothing but a wasteland. Who in their right mind would want to stay?”

  
With that he took a deep breath, reached out and dissolved the mark with a single touch.

  
You considered killing him. Weighed your options, once, twice.

  
“Fuck off,” you growled at him, “Before I change my mind.”

  
There was no reason for him to run. You were bluffing, obviously so, and he had to know that; but Ggio skittered away as if the look in your eyes was reason enough to be afraid.

  
He couldn’t know the wasteland was coming for him; it came to collect, to reap all it had given life to for just a brief period of time. Out here the corpses were marching and the living cowered- unless the balance was shifted.

  
So Ggio ran and you knew with a sudden clarity that this was the end of the line; there was no turning back.

 

* * *

 

 

The last stop you made before you committed to your decision was the hiding place the two girls had chosen for the day.

  
Yuzu was not conscious when you arrived, too drained by her injuries she could not keep her eyes open at all.

  
Karin looked up at you and you could tell she knew something was up before you even spoke.

  
“I need you to relay a message to Ichigo or any of his friends if you find them,” you said and lifted a hand to stop her protests, “Just a security measure. If they somehow aren’t dead, I need them to know something.”

  
“Is this going to be sappy and embarrassing?” Karin asked, swallowing thickly around the tears you saw at the corners of her eyes. They never spilled.

  
“Tell him it is not Aizen. Just that. That’s it.”

  
“You’re leaving, aren’t you? Where are you going?”

  
It was a valid question and one you were not sure you could answer. Beyond the first layer of Las Noches was a place you had not gone to before- and even if there was something there that could solve all your problems there was no insurance you would get back out. An eternity trapped in the core of the Soul King’s domain was less than desirable.

  
“I’ll try to fix this shit,” you said and it was the most quixotic answer you possibly could have given. Find the castle in the sky, save the world as if that had ever been an aspiration of yours.

  
“By yourself?” Karin asked and lifted an eyebrow.

  
“Nah. Got a rogue Quincy helping out.”

  
Yuzu stirred on her lap and you were tempted to leave immediately if only to avoid explaining yourself to them. There was that emotional obligation that stemmed from them being Kurosaki’s sisters; you could not just lie to or abandon them however you pleased.

  
“Grimmjow?” Yuzu asked and sounded so sleepy you were unsure if she actually awake.

  
“I told someone about you,” you said to her sister and ignored her frown, “Harribel. She will make sure nothing happens to you.”

  
“The Espada?”

  
“Yeah. She won’t let you die.”

  
“How certain are you of that?”

  
“About 90 percent.”

 

Karin grinned even with her condition getting worse, still a human child lost in the ghastly desert. A part of you had considered taking them with you into the depths of Las Noches but you could barely keep yourself alive with the infection. Even if their spiritual powers were growing it was still not enough to take on anyone you might come across.

  
“So you got us a babysitter, huh?” Karin asked you and she was still smiling even if she was obviously scared, “That’s so nice. You sure you’re still a Hollow?”

  
You tapped the mask fragment on your cheek.

  
“Pretty sure.”

  
“What are you talking about?” Yuzu asked suddenly and tried to get up, “What is going on here?”

  
Karin answered her question before you could.

  
“I’ll tell you in a bit,” she said, “Don’t worry. Go back to sleep for now.”

  
Then she turned to you again, pressed her lips together.

  
“You better not die.”

  
“Likewise. Kurosaki’d kick my ass if you did.”

  
With that you left them to their own devices; in the distance you could feel the swell of Harribel’s reiatsu, the preparation for what you would set in motion.

  
_Revolution, revolution._

 

* * *

 

 

There was only one way to summon Bazz B.

  
Pantera’s spirit shuddered as you placed the edge of her blade against the stump of your arm. It hurt; every second of every day and you felt like a rabid dog poked with a stick through the bars of its cage. Watch it spin again, chasing its own tail, biting down on anything it could find to occupy its aching teeth.

  
The leeches moved again inside your flesh, bloated with blood and greedily sucking down more and more. They almost seemed to sense something was going on; they grew more agitated and curled around the bone, nibbled on the sinews, pulled on the veins. One of them blinked its one all-seeing eye and you felt it deeply, embedded safe and sound in your body.

  
A wave of disgust overcame you so violently your grip on Pantera’s hilt faltered.

  
Then you forced her down, through your flesh, through the puffy creatures feeding on your strength. You heard the squelching sounds before you felt the blinding pain.

  
All you cut off was a slice; as if you were preparing bread or slabs of bloody meat. It was not a clean cut, either. You had wavered for a second, lost your grip, left a flayed edge.

  
The blood didn’t bother you even if it shot from the wound. The pain was worse; you saw stars and dropped to one knee, desperately trying to support yourself with a hand on the ground. Blood mingled with sand and your fingertips tingled as nausea set in.

  
“Don’t pass out,” you told yourself and your voice was slurred and unsteady, “Don’t fucking pass out.”

  
You looked over to your side, watched the wound and saw movement still. It wasn’t done. You were not done yet.

  
It felt like an eternity as you reached out towards the stump and closed your hand around one of the leeches. Soft, wet. Stuck in your flesh because it bit down.

  
You ripped one out, crushed it in your palm. Another. And a third.

  
A whimper passed your lips and you didn’t feel ashamed at all; just a sound, just an expression of pain as well as relief.

  
You knew it was the last of the leeches because it tried to crawl deeper into you, up your arm and into your shoulder. Like a fish in shallow water it moved just under the skin, slithered up through you as if you were not a person at all, just an object, just a cavernously weathered tree.

  
Pantera’s spirit closed her eyes as you lifted up her blade and pushed it into your neck, stabbed the last leech. You only had to cut a little; only a thin line from the line of your jaw to your collar.

  
Claws pierced skin easily.

  
“Grimmjow,” Pantera whispered in your mind, “Grimmjow stop-”

  
A throat was a throat was a throat. Until suddenly it was nothing but sliced meat.

  
You gasped as the body of the parasite dropped out of your flesh and suddenly they were all gone, scattered around you like flies.

  
Sticky, filthy, warm and damp on your fingers, red where it fell, black as a stain. Dizziness spread so fast you could barely react to it, a notion of agony, a glimpse of death.

  
You curled your fingers in the sand and wheezed, feverish, tried to focus in vain as it all came crashing down in a final crescendo. A last performance, a last applause. It bled you dry.

  
With a look to the side you saw you were still not finished; the flesh was full of holes, gray and sickly. Dead and useless.

  
Pantera steadied your hand as you raised her another time. It wasn’t enough; you were shaking like a leaf, weak noises pulling from your scratchy throat. Everything hurt, everything throbbed, blood gushed onto your hands. It was too much then, finally, because you were an Espada once but you had never mutilated yourself, never been so horribly human.

  
So you couldn’t find the right angle and the tip of your blade slipped off the blood-slicked skin. You tried again, desperate now, blinking away the streaks of darkness obscuring your vision. It didn’t work and you failed for the third time. Red blood, black sand. An abyss to dive into.

  
Then suddenly there was a hand on yours, holding it steady and guiding it through the dead tissue. Quick, precise. Another hand on your elbow, an arm wrapped around your chest, keeping you upright.

  
Pantera cut and your arm was a little shorter still, another slice dropping to the sand. A clean wound this time.

  
You looked up, swirling skies and blurry faces meeting your eyes.

  
“We did offer you assistance before,” Sung-Sun said and her sleeve was stained red, “You stubborn fool.”

  
It was all three of them, steadying you, providing assistance.

  
“Why-” you began and even that came out garbled and warped.

  
“Your small human friends asked us to help you out. They are very convincing.”

  
“Hah,” you said and grinned with bleeding lips, “You’re just fucking weak to their puppy eyes.”

  
“Still talking shit in your condition, huh?” Apacci asked and snorted, “That’s almost impressive.”

  
Then there was another reiatsu, a familiar presence that never failed to awe you. Blue before your inner eye even if its color in the wasteland was a bright yellow.

  
“A change of plans, Grimmjow,” Harribel said and leaned down to look you in the eyes, “I am coming with you.”

 

* * *

 


	33. forget me not; not here; not now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have seen an author write this a thousand times, I'm sure, but I promise I haven't abandoned this fic; just to get that out of the way first.
> 
> I have gotten a few comments regarding Ichigo in this fic and, well, as I said as a reply to them: I didn't write this fic with any intent to deceive you or bait you into reading it, which is the reason I never added Ichigo to the character tags in this. There is Grimmichi in this, yes, but Ichigo is not in it much. In case anyone is concerned about which ship is endgame you can shoot me an ask on tumblr or something just so I don't spoil anything on here (off anon, if possible, so I can keep the answer secret for those who want it like that idk). It's just, hey, this is a fic with two main ships. Equal value. Equal importance to the story and me as an author.  
> Thanks for understanding!
> 
>  
> 
> WARNINGS: sort of body horror (I think), nausea, references to past abuse and trauma, memories of ableist language  
> Hope I got everything, correct me if I am wrong!

* * *

 

 

The Quincy did not leave you much time to recover.

  
“What about Nel?”

  
“Nelliel is fine,” Harribel interrupted you and placed a hand on your healthy shoulder to press you down again, “I have left her in command of Las Noches. She will make good use of her authority.”

  
“But-”

  
“Grimmjow,” she said sternly and glared at you, “You are still bleeding out, so calm down already.”

  
You tried to follow her advice but there was adrenaline in your veins where you lacked blood, as if your body wanted you to jump up and down joyfully until your time had come. With the last piece of infected flesh falling to the ground you felt better already- drained but elated as if a sudden madness had taken hold of you.

  
There was more to be said, other details of the plan you needed to discuss. As it were there was no time.

  
Thunder rocked through the desert sand as the Quincy arrived; more than one, more than ready to kill you. This selection did not come as a surprise; the ones you knew were high up on the chain of command simply because you joined the war too late to see the canon fodder.

  
Gerard Valkyrie went for Apacci first as if he knew instinctively that the ban on killing Hollows was finally lifted. You wondered how it worked, their communication, how anything worked out here but-

  
But every time you wanted to think about it, you wanted to piece all the information together it slipped through your fingers like the sand itself.

  
Among the others you saw Candice and Bambietta, followed by another one you had never seen. He dropped a corpse on the ground, stomped it flat. It looked like Ggio had not gotten very far.

  
Then there was Askin, his own infection spreading and eating away at him from the inside. You wondered if it had begun to hurt already, the leeches growing and pressing down on the sensitive organs. He didn’t look like he could fight a wet blanket, let alone an actual enemy.

  
Harribel dragged you to your feet with little strength.

  
“Where is your contact?” she asked, “Were you not going to meet him now?”

  
You didn’t bother asking how she knew about that at all.

  
“Yeah, he should have been here by now-”

  
Again you were not allowed to finish your sentence for the reiatsu of Quincy unknown to you grew closer. An arrow missed your head by just an inch and that was your signal to run.

  
Or at least you tried to, limping and staggering because the lack of blood was getting to your head. Even with the mark and infection gone you were still drained and did not have the luxury to recover.

  
“Oy Grimmjow, making your escape already?” Bambietta yelled somewhere behind you, “Hiding behind all those poor Hollows, huh? That’s rotten!”

  
“You should be ashamed!” Candice joined her and they laughed together.

  
You were prepared to feel their weapons between your ribs a second later but you waited in vain, expecting a wound that never came.

  
So you glanced over your shoulder and saw them stab Valkyrie through the neck to end him; thunder and explosives joined with familiar ceros.

  
“Or maybe we should be ashamed!” Bambietta shouted in your direction and grinned, “Down with the Soul King!”

  
They were a storm and you watched them with awe.

  
“Don’t be too surprised,” Harribel said as she saw your confusion, “Do you really believe I stayed idle all this time?”

  
“You made them join your hypothetical cause, huh?”

  
“No one in their right mind wants to stay in this wasteland. Not even the ones it was meant for.”

  
The sound of a tear being ripped into the empty air alerted you to the next presence arriving at the scene, just in time, right in front of you.

  
“We didn’t want a world like this,” Bazz B said quietly as he stepped outside to greet you, “Not ever. Yhwach promised us a new world, a chance to live, not this bullshit. The Soul King in power now is no better than he used to be.”

  
“You’re late,” you answered.

  
“Oh really?” Bazz B replied and smirked, pointing behind himself into his personal storage void, “Because I think I arrived just when I wanted to.”

  
“Semantics.”

  
“True! But don’t you have a limb to restore and a king to kill? What are you waiting for?”

 

* * *

 

 

It was the same old song, same weary record spinning over and over again as you felt yourself approaching unconsciousness. The wasteland had never not led you to this destination; you fainted and fell and got injured. It never ended, always persisted and so did you; because you had to, because there was a promise you made.

  
Harribel and Bazz B dragged your shuddering wreck of a body into the void between worlds.

  
“I’m so fucking sick of being injured,” you muttered, “This is bullshit.”

  
Bazz B laughed and pressed a hand against your stomach, hoisted you up a little further. The concept of personal space was insignificant compared to the wound on your neck and arm.

  
It was beginning to heal, more rapidly than you remembered it had worked when you were at full strength. But even if the cuts closed and the leeches were gone from your flesh that didn’t mean you were suddenly okay. Even now you were losing blood and your legs failed you as your companions tried to let you stand on your own.

  
“I can’t promise this won’t hurt, you know.”

  
Bazz B pressed his palms against your sides, kept you upright and looked straight into your eyes.

  
“I think I can take it,” you muttered, “Just ripped out my own throat to cut worms out of my flesh, you know.”

  
“It might still be pretty bad,” he said and made sure you looked directly at him, “And there is something else you should know before you make your choice.”

  
“The terms and conditions, huh? Go ahead, then.”

  
“If I do this,” he said and and pressed his lips together until they were white, bloodless, “There is no way to reverse it. Even with powers to reject reality you could not heal your arm anymore. It just uses too much of your own reiatsu for it to be removed afterwards.”

  
You wondered how he knew that. It seemed too specific of a thing to guess.

  
“So I’ll be stuck with it forever?”

  
“If you agree to it, yeah.”

  
“What other options are there?” you asked and looked over your shoulder at Harribel. She was caught up in the wonders of the void storage, picking up and examining things. It didn’t look like she intended to help you with the decision anytime soon.

  
You heard the static buzz in your ears once more and even with the infection gone and your strength returning gradually you knew it worked as a timer. Just a few more noises, a steady increase in volume. You would be drained within a second.

  
“You could let it heal by itself,” Bazz B said, “Hope you will run into someone who can heal you before your arm becomes relevant. It isn’t the end of the world, you know, losing a limb. You are not useless like this.”

  
“Thanks,” you answered, sarcastic. It seemed like it went over his head since he could not hear your intonation.

  
“Don’t mention it. Maybe your release form could aid the healing process, too. Now that the leeches are gone there is no reason you can’t return to your previous level of power. With time.”

  
So you looked to the side, at your arm, at its stump. You remembered fighting with one torn off, remembered the words of everyone around you.

  
“Cripple,” Luppi said.

  
“Worthless.”

  
“Useless.”

  
In the end the choice was easy; because even if you knew it for less than the truth you still felt like a burden with an arm removed.

  
“Do it,” you ordered him and grimaced, “No fucking time like the present.”

  
Bazz B gave you a thumbs up that could have looked like some twisted sense of sarcasm. It didn’t feel like that to you; he sympathized with you for whatever reason- maybe he recalled the days where his arm was missing, too. Off balance, swaying.

  
You heard him rummage through his many things and wondered what would happen now.

  
Bazz B returned quicker than you thought. In his hands lay an array of different metals; some sturdier than others, some looking like they were made of glass instead.

  
“Do you have these just lying around in there?”

  
“Look, dude, if you hate the design so much you are welcome to go to your next artificial limb dealer-”

  
“I never said I didn’t like it.”

  
“Well, your face told me all I needed to know, stop frowning all the damn time, what’s a deaf guy supposed to think-”

  
“You two,” Harribel said, flaring her reiatsu. You immediately fell silent like scolded children. It had been easy to forget she was there at all; your mind was still woozy.

  
Sometimes there was an itch at the side of your throat and you had to scratch it immediately; as if you feared that more leeches slept beneath your skin. The thought sent your throat into spasms.

  
“Grimmjow, please decide quickly,” Harribel continued and freed you from the responsibility of dealing with your own nightmares, “I doubt we will be left with much time as soon as the Soul King realizes his troops and Espada do not plan to aid him in your capture.”

  
“She’s right,” Bazz B said and looked at you again, “Are you completely sure this is what you want?”

  
You saw their point, clear as a day. With one arm less you were not automatically useless; just like the Quincy wasn’t with his hearing impaired.

  
However, that did not mean you felt like you could wait forever for a miracle to appear. A dilemma, maybe, for someone who had not lived to make quick decisions.

  
“I told you to do it, didn’t I?”

  
“Alright. You’re the boss. Of your limbs, at least.”

  
The metal in his hands dissolved so quickly you could barely follow it with his eyes. Bazz B touched its shape and manipulated it, bent and broke it, shaped something new from the ashes.

  
“I used to think I could just produce heat or beams,” he explained as he saw your surprise, “But I can use it to morph things into what I want them to be, too. As long as they don’t burn immediately.”

  
You hesitated to tell him how awesome that sounded, if only because you suspected he knew. Pantera growled at you, forever wondering since when compliments rolled so easily off the tip of your tongue.

  
“So now you can manipulate metal, huh?”

  
“Not only, but yeah, I can,” Bazz B declared, looking like he was about to burst with pride, “I could, like, be famous for this stuff.”

  
“Of course,” you said and smirked in a way that made it absolutely clear you were mocking him, “Twist some scrap metal into pretty flowers and then sell them to the starving people of the wasteland.”

  
“Well, aren’t you the biggest fucking optimist.”

  
“I’ll buy your stuff as soon as the world isn’t shit and I stopped bleeding out on your carpet.”

  
Harribel sighed and settled down on the ground, her legs crossed and eyes closed. Somehow you doubted she was meditating; maybe it was the thought of her fracciónes fighting for their lives that had her on edge.

  
“You’ll have to help us too, uh-” Bazz B struggled and gestured vaguely, “I didn’t catch your name last time we met.”

  
It didn’t shock you as much as you thought it would; possibly due to the lack of blood in your body. Everything was tiring and dull, looking through dirty glass.

  
“So you were with Yhwach when he went to Hueco Mundo, huh?” you asked and sneered, “Figured you were being too nice for a Quincy.”

  
“I didn’t catch that.”

  
“And I don’t fucking care,” you drawled and hoped the scowl on your face was indicative of your anger when your intonation couldn’t be.

  
Harribel flared her reiatsu and you fell silent. It was not a command now; not when you were both huddled up in an alternate plane of reality plotting to kill the king. Her words and recommendations were still branded by the authority she knew she deserved.

  
“We have no time for hostilities,” she chastised you and then addressed Bazz B instead, “I am Harribel, Primera Espada. I take it you need my reiatsu to completely form a connection?”

  
“Precisely.”

  
Harribel paid the compliment no mind and left her position to kneel in front of you. Eye-level. More and more people seemed to understand what to do to keep you pliant.

  
“I have never done this before,” she admitted, not ashamed, a simple statement, “But I assume this is how it has to be done, Quincy?”

  
She got no reply and you nudged her to turn around.

  
“He can’t hear you, remember?” you muttered, “Let him read your lips.”

  
“I apologize,” Harribel said and repeated her question. It still came as a surprise how easily she admitted to her faults, how normal it was for her to speak her mind. However, there was still that distant air about her, that feeling that she might be unapproachable to everyone. Below, beneath.

  
“Oh yeah,” Bazz B said as he read her message, “His reiatsu is too low to actually allow him to bond with the metal properly, so we need to enforce the connection from the outside. Just pour your reiatsu into the point of intersection and try to keep the stream steady. The better the connection, the less pain for your friend.”

  
_Friend._ It was not a word you had ever used to refer to Harribel, not consciously. She never seemed like the sort of person to want friendship. Then again, neither did you.

  
“Why do all this for me?” you asked her as she pressed her fingers against the soppy edges of the flesh hanging from your shoulder.

  
“I am the queen and I will care for my people.”

  
Her idea did not seem as silly now; maybe in this wasteland it finally made sense. The only other option was that somehow, after all this time, you were as naive as the humans had been. Working together, teaming up. The benefit of the doubt.

  
“Did’ya care for Ggio, too? Cirucci? Because last I checked they were fucking dead.”

  
What your words betrayed wasn’t concern, it was the selfish belief that there was a reason for death out here, there had to be. Useless sacrifices to the wasteland would mean you could be next. In a heartbeat.

  
A promise that was yours to keep.

  
“How much of this did you plan?” you asked Harribel as the waves of her power ran into your wound but she stayed silent. She regretted the loss.

  
“Enough.”

  
“Can you, like, elaborate on that?”

  
“Nelliel and I have been working together from the very start. We tried to find out where your loyalties lie but it took a long time; she implored me to trust you but I couldn’t risk it until now. We also attempted to get rid of those who would like to keep the system in place,” Harribel told you and suddenly her current actions seemed like an apology, “Which is why I did not stop the shinigami when she attempted to infiltrate us by replacing Aaroniero.”

  
“Why would you keep that charade up for so long? And what the hell makes right now so special you decided to give it up?”

  
Bazz B slumped to the ground next to you and the heat of the metal he shaped prickled on your skin. Fire setting your arm alight had you wary now.

  
“There has been no rain for several days,” he said and watched Harribel’s reaction carefully, “That’s related to it, isn’t?”

  
_“Three days and the Hollows come crawling,”_ Harribel repeated what you heard once before, spoken in reverence, “Superstition, at best. But what it means is that the Soul King is weakened or recuperating or the rain would fall as usual.”

  
“He controls the weather?” you asked and flinched as the metal pulsed close to your sensitive flesh.

  
“He can spread the infection if he needs that to happen; both the one you had and the one directed at non-spiritual beings. It is what the Soul King uses to control the level of power outside. I presume the weather is the least of his concerns.”

  
“The potentials he drags inside,” Bazz B continued, “No one really knows what happens to them, apparently. Was all I needed to know to-”

  
He stopped himself but you knew what he was referring to. The person lying comatose in his personal void was important enough for him to give up his status among the Quincy.

  
The metal connected with the numb nerve ends of your arm with nothing but a small bumping noise; like knuckles against cotton. Pain laced through your shoulder and down your spine, an electric current directed exactly to the core of who you were. A grunt left your mouth, strangled and choking, a testament to the things you had to endure.

  
“Take a deep breath,” Bazz B said and you wanted to snap at him even if he was probably right, “I told you, this might hurt.”

  
The stinging in the stitches on your neck was enough to solidify his assumption. Truth be told, you were fucking sick of the pain and the cold and everything that wasn’t you sleeping all the nightmares off in a safe place. A naive thought, maybe, but one of yours no less.

  
You inhaled sharply. There was a dull sound of something heavy falling to the ground and one of the three of you flinched; there was no use blaming anyone because a second later you felt the metal connect with the ruined remains of your arm.

  
Bazz B was right- there was definitely pain.

  
The room turned and you were sure you would faint again; because you were getting used to that. The Soul King’s infection was meant to take all your strength and keep you in check so that came as no surprise.

  
This time you stayed conscious, gasping and trembling. An era of weakness culminating here in this moment with the end of the Soul King’s reign over you.

  
Then the pain was gone; the flick of a wrist, the blink of an eye. What curled around you like venomous vines before vanished so quickly you weren’t sure it had ever been there in the first place.

  
The dizziness remained and you pressed a hand against your temple, massaged the worst of the nausea away. Practiced movements, muscle memory, repeated on both sides of your face and-

  
You looked at your hand and saw it was made of metal, cool and smooth where its fingers pressed against your skin. For one terrifying moment you felt detached from it, disassociating. It was just a piece of junk melded to you, forced on you, disgusting, irreversible-

  
“You’re hyperventilating,” Harribel stated as if she could name the symptoms but not the treatment, “Is it the pain? Are you rejecting the metal?”

  
Her voice pulled you back into the storage void, into the concept of a physical form specifically made for you. A body, yours no less.

  
“I need to-” Bazz B stuttered and you saw him fidget even with your blurred vision.

  
“Go check on him,” you muttered, voice weirdly warped. It sounded like you were stretching the vowels even if you had no intention of doing so, as if your words were dipped underwater when you were not.

  
Harribel watched you with curious eyes and aided you silently as you forced your body to get up. Once standing everything seemed better already; until the weight of your new arm made itself known and you staggered again.

  
“Careful,” Harribel said and caught you, “Don’t force it, you need to adjust to the sudden change of reiatsu.”

  
Of course she was correct. You still fidgeted as she wrapped an arm around your waist, kept you grounded and stable against herself. People assumed you were attracted to her; her power maybe, or the confidence she projected. It was neither of those- simply because the assumption wasn’t true. Labels held little meaning for a Hollow but you liked to think with them in mind sometimes. For good luck, perhaps, or just for orientation.

  
So you fidgeted because you were embarrassed to be a burden on her; Kurosaki had found words to describe what you felt, that lack of attraction towards almost anyone. Few exceptions were left and Harribel was not one of them. She was the queen, no more and no less.

  
“I might throw up on you,” you moaned and laughed as you saw her disgusted expression, “Relax, ‘m just kidding. Might is the wrong word. I will most definitely throw up on you.”

  
She looked like she was going to protest. What interrupted her was the arrival of Bazz B and his formerly comatose companion; they mirrored the two of you perfectly, one leaning on the other.

  
Bazz B’s friend looked at you and squinted.

  
“Holy shit,” he said, “Grimmjow? You’re alive?”

  
To call what followed an awkward silence seemed inappropriate considering just how tense it was. Harribel closed her eyes in exasperation, the miraculously resurrected man was visibly confused and Bazz B-

  
“You know each other?” he asked and only as he pointed at you did you realize he was talking to you, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  
“What, you actually thought I believed you when you said this was Haschwalth?” you responded and barked out a laugh, “I fought that haughty prick and he sure as hell doesn’t look like this.”

  
“Oy-”

  
“Shut it, Abarai,” you snapped at him and then grinned immediately at the sight of his frown, “I was wondering how long it would take you to get your lazy ass out of that room.”

  
Renji Abarai looked just like he had when you last saw him; in the Soul Society during one of your business visits. A familiar face after all this time.

  
The longer you watched him now the more differences you began to see. His hair was longer and tied less neatly, his tattoos spanning all across his shoulders and neck now, up to his chin.

  
“You’re still an asshole, I see,” he said and smirked back at you, “Finally getting that arm to match your trash personality?”

  
“I’ll fucking trash _you_ , just you wait-”

  
The two of you were halfway to clawing at each other’s throats- benignly, mind you- but the buzzing drain of the space you occupied worked quicker than either of you expected. Abarai was still not fully woken up and your blood loss still immense; so the two of you stumbled after taking just one hasty step. No one could blame you for grasping his shoulder in an attempt to stay upright.

  
“You are both idiots,” Harribel commented and clicked her tongue.

  
“Never said I wasn’t,” Abarai replied and grinned before pointing at Bazz B, “But that guy likes me anyway. He’s weird like that.”

  
“I don’t even know what you said,” the Quincy answered and rolled his eyes, “But I am sure it was fucking embarrassing.”

  
They started to bicker and you were expecting to hear complaints from your side.

  
Instead Harribel laughed, quietly but happier than you ever heard her. She steadied you as you stumbled again, smiled the entire time even if she tried not to let you see.

  
“What’s so funny?” you asked her, trying not to sound too annoyed. You weren’t. All you wanted was an explanation and all you had were harsh words.

  
“Can’t you tell?” she replied and her lips twitched even as she looked at you, “That shinigami has not seen the wasteland yet. He is still in that mindset, the one from before.”

  
“Yeah, and in two days he’ll be just as fucked up as the rest of us.”

  
“Or maybe,” Harribel said and pulled you up to take a look at your new arm, “Maybe you’re a pessimist. Maybe there is a way out of here.”

  
There was something about her you had not seen before, a certain fondness that seemed out of place. When she spoke of her Hollow kingdom and those she wanted to protect you had never truly included yourself in that thinking.

  
“What changed your mind?” you asked and averted your eyes, embarrassed by her sincerity, “I thought you weren’t sure if you could trust me with all this.”

  
“Nelliel trusts you.”

  
“You said she has since we got here. Why is it different now?”

  
It wasn’t like this; she was the queen of Hueco Mundo with her entourage of amazon soldiers. It didn’t matter that you were an Arrancar and former Espada; there was no trust, no loyalty, no oath sworn that could elevate you to that level in her eyes.

Until suddenly you saw it as she supported you, kept you on your feet. Her strange Hollow family did not stop before your fingertips.

  
Harribel just looked at you; not the way you thought she would. _Hollows_. You worked like this.

  
“I found Shawlong,” she said and the words were poison in your ears.

  
“Well, I watched him die.”

  
It was a harsh reply but she only cocked her head, observed you for a moment before speaking again.

  
“Yet his killer still walks the desert. He is out there right now, his people attacking mine.”

  
“I-” you began and there were no words on your mind. You knew what was expected of you, who you should have killed and instead cared for. Askin was not a subject you could speak of easily with his betrayal so close to your heart.

  
“I am not accusing you of anything,” Harribel interrupted you and carefully examined your new arm, “I am just stating the facts. I agree with your decision not to kill the Quincy.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“Killing them strengthens the Soul King, assuming it is Yhwach. Any Quincy killed is another ability added to an already strong foe.”

  
“You got a point there,” you mumbled.

  
“But we both know your reason to spare that enemy was different. Sooner or later you will have to deal with that.”

  
“I don’t know if I can,” you answered truthfully and more vulnerable than you ever wanted.

  
Her eyes softened; she nodded, accepted that statement.

  
“There is still time. For now it is important we move on. Can you stand?” Harribel asked, not unkindly, “Because if that is the case I will return to my fracciónes.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what I wanted this story to be when I took notes on "wasteland.doc" like it had 
> 
> -wasteland  
> -mean things  
> -cool robot arm


	34. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im in nanowrimo hell with this thing but I do wanna post considering how much more there is to go still lmao
> 
> I added a small tag, "not a love triangle" because love triangles are terrible and I hate them so yessir none of that in here 
> 
> warnings for: further mention of dismemberment, past trauma, some violence, and of course self-decapitation because I thought that would be a good idea for some reason

* * *

 

 

The first time your arm was taken from you you were alone. Two steps forward with deadly intent and a blade poised to kill, another one before the voice of your ruler stopped you in your tracks.

  
_Forgiveness_ was so like Aizen to use, an exhausted concept with no spine in the world of Hollows. Like books torn right open, stretched and divided at the seams.

  
With your mind scattered and your lips dry with hatred you stalked out of the hall, feeling Tousen behind you and his malice with it. Justice, judgment, jurisdiction.

  
You hated them all, them and their prying eyes and words of wisdom that hid nothing but the intention to usurp, the will to end all of you in a storm of bullets. Pantera agreed with you; there was no peace to be found here, no middle ground. What Aizen wanted was a war with you in the center, with Hollows dying for him until he was sure they were no longer useful. You saw it coming, you all did, some more viciously than others.

  
For a moment, one terrible mistake of a minute your steps were leading you into familiar territory. The weight of an arm removed you stumbled through corridors you had walked so many times, followed paths others had laid out for you once.

  
“Here,” Shawlong told you once as you were born from a Hollow shell and torn into this world, “Let me steady you, king.”

  
One of them gave you a cloak as if you cared about nudity or shame, as if those were concepts you knew about at this point in time. No, they were only as real as you made them; just figments of a human system of values, a shinigami’s concept.

  
Now you realized they were gone; not the system but the people who tried to usher you into it, those five fracciónes of yours who joined you on a fight in the desert. No progress. Stand still.

  
So with your arm cut off and your followers dead you paused in the middle of Las Noches’ hallways. You seethed with rage. You gnashed your teeth with anger.

  
Then you walked again; past all of the Arrancar who stared and sent spiteful glances your way. Oh, they would rejoice that the savage beast was wounded, would think you quiet now that you lost a part of yourself. They were so, so wrong.

  
Back then you were alone and your anger was the only thing about you one could call alive; a well, an ocean. You drowned, drowned, drowned in it.

 

* * *

 

 

In the wasteland an arm unlike any other was given to you and Harribel kept you on your feet even as your ragtag group left the safety of the other dimension.

  
“Any improvement?” she asked you. Even if you were a burden on her she did not voice it; not once did you see exasperation as it became apparent you could not stand on your own.

  
“I have a second arm again,” you mumbled and blinked slowly, “That’s something.”

  
Harribel smelled of sand and blood but she was warm and her reiatsu familiar. For a selfish moment you didn’t want her to go; but there was also pride and the wish to prove you were functional. A chunk of metal at your side.

  
In that great divide, the space between a Hollow mindset and a human one, the difference between claws and the fingers on a hand, you had no name. Unexplainable, illimittable. What even was in a number, in letters arranged to give meaning to a soul that consisted of thousands? Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez loved and hated the thought of being one being and only one.

  
“Go help your people,” you said and slowly removed yourself from that peculiar half-embrace Harribel caught you in, “If we’re trying to escape this shithole I’ll have to walk by myself anyway.”

  
She was unconvinced but you saw the tremor in her legs, the tight muscles of her upper arm. Even the queen was afraid; for the ones she left behind. Out of sight, always in mind.

  
“Just one thing,” you said and swayed just a little. A new weight and balance. Metal in your flesh. The touch of a dead person below; desecrating.

  
“Yes?”

  
Harribel lifted her eyebrows and with the wasteland stretching out in front of you there was no doubt she had to hurry. A snake, a deer, a lion.

  
“You said you wanted to get rid of those who wanted to keep the system in place,” you started and cleared your throat, “Were Luppi and Shawlong part of that?”

  
“You know the answer to that,” she replied and her expression hardened, “We couldn’t kill them because they weren’t. The Soul King knows when an infected person dies or removes the mark. Until you murdered Luppi the rain fell. There will be consequences.”

  
“You wanted him dead, too, though. Someone sent Tesla after me to get back at Luppi.”

  
“That was Shawlong ‘s doing, ironically,” Harribel said, stated it calmly as if it barely mattered, “An attempt to bring you to your senses, I assume. He never cared for the infection, thought it a myth. Or perhaps it was an accident.”

  
It silenced you. There was a twisted kind of logic behind what she said. You arrived at a truth that despised you; it struggled and fought against everything you found out there in the palace and in here, in the wasteland.

  
“How do you know?” you asked and felt like you were suffocating; as if the invisible fingers of those chosen five squeezed down after all this time.

  
Harribel’s hand lingered on the mechanical limb; not quite yours yet.

  
“Because I was the first one he spoke to about it,” she said and it felt like a secret she had kept forever, “He talked of your betrayal and how his heart was still torn, how he wanted to help and kill you all at once if only to shake you from your stupor. I refused to support him.”

  
“So he went to Luppi of all people?”

  
“Yes. Shawlong made a deal and then went back on it; I received reports from the Quincy that he was attempting to get into the innermost layers of Las Noches, presumably to do what we set out to right now.”

  
“They could have lied,” you proposed, “When have the Quincy ever cared for Hollow affairs? What if they were fucking wrong?”

  
“Then explain it to me,” Harribel countered immediately, “Explain to me why Shawlong took Mila Rose’s tongue. Why he spoke to me of his own revolution. Why he attempted to call back Tesla in secret when his conscience awoke.”

  
_You’re our king, Grimmjow. We’ll follow your command. We’ll follow you._

  
“It doesn’t matter,” you lied, such a desperate escape, “He’s dead. Luppi’s dead, too.”

  
“Not to you.”

  
Harribel moved her palm around the side of your face as if she meant to cradle it; she never touched you. The scars burned where her hand hovered over them; lines that ran so deep not even bleach would wash them away.

  
“Loyalty is a good thing, I suppose,” she murmured and you felt like she was scolding you, somehow, “But there is false loyalty, too, Grimmjow. Don’t let the humans teach you all forgiveness makes sense, you don’t need to find excuses for those that wronged you.”

  
“Are you done?” was what you snapped in return, hateful, vulnerable, “I thought there was a war to fight?”

  
Harribel nodded after a second of hesitation. She searched your eyes for the understanding you couldn’t offer her.

  
“Of course,” she said, “Time is more precious than I let on. My apologies.”

  
Her politeness was a farce and you heard the sarcasm. You never expected her to be capable of that; as if it was beneath her. The wasteland ran in her veins like it did in yours.

  
As she stepped away from you and walked you stumbled again; pride and weakness did not leave with her.

 

* * *

 

 

The battle was already over as you arrived.

  
You watched as Askin attempted to get up from the ground and failed, landed in the dirt again. His body was falling apart right then and there, amid leeches and their hunger. You ignored the sting in your chest- he was a problem for a later time.

  
Nel had taken him down, it seemed; she hesitated now, not willing to kill a defenseless target. The selfish, hopelessly naive part of you that was happy about that clawed its way to the surface again.

  
A short distance away you spotted Bambietta and Candice; stabbing various sharp objects into the lifeless body of someone else you suspected belonged to the former Schutzstaffel.

  
“They knew,” Bazz B told you, “They knew what was going to happen when we attacked the Soul Society, knew the Auswählen would most likely kill the rest of us. They were going to see us dead so they could make it through another day.”

  
Abarai asked something; something concerned and softer than you had heard in a long while. But the words were lost on you because they were meant for Bazz B; who could not hear, did not look, would not read now. You saw the confusion on Abarai’s face, a helpless fear you knew you would mirror if you could.

  
“I just wanna kill Yhwach once and for all,” Bazz B said, “If he isn’t dead. If there’s anything left to kill.”

  
You let him speak because maybe he didn’t want a reaction this time; perhaps there were sentences best spoken into silence and he was sure to find it here.

  
“Fuck, a thousand years and he’s still trying to devour this world. They all just run after that fucking idiot, again and again. If they had listened, maybe, but-”

  
They didn’t listen and you knew it; Bazz B watched the Quincy fall for a Soul King a second time. You didn’t tell him there was a chance Yhwach had nothing to do with it- it was not what he needed to know.

  
Abarai hugged him and it was your cue to leave.

  
Past the Sternritter you had seen before, all of them fallen before the Tres Bestias and their own deserters.

  
“You should have been there,” Apacci told you with a grin as she crushed a head beneath her heel, “It was great. I’ve been itching for payback all this time.”

  
“And they call me destructive,” you replied and scowled, “Sounds like you fucked them up pretty good yourself.”

  
Mila Rose’s reply was the swing of her sword; the gigantic blade carved a pattern into a Quincy’s neck, separated head from body cleanly. She smiled at you, though, or came as close to it as she could. Fellow Arrancar; somehow that meant something between the rim of one battlefield and the next.

  
“Grimmjow,” Sung-Sun addressed you, wiping her blade on a pristine white uniform, “I advice you to serve Harribel-sama well or we will follow you inside and end you.”

  
_That means ‘good luck’_ , Mila Rose drew into the sand with the tip of her shoe, quick and shaky.

  
“It also means ‘don’t fuck this up, we don’t want to be babysitters for those brats forever’,”Apacci informed you, “They might be mildly adorable but fuck do they make me feel bad for not being able to get out of this shithole.”

  
Yuzu and Karin did seem to have that effect on people. It wasn’t much of a surprise; their family seemed to have a knack to get under your skin easily.

  
“Nelliel should accompany you too but she insisted,” Sung-Sun said and the joy in her voice surprised you more than the politeness, “Unless the innermost areas of Las Noches are secured she will not allow any of the injured to be endangered.”

  
It sounded just like Nel; looking around you saw she was speaking to Harribel.

  
“She told us not to kill them,” Apacci informed you and gestured at the higher-ranking Quincy around them, “Not the stronger ones, at least. Just in case it’s the Quincy king and he’d benefit from their powers.”

  
“So others will have to stay behind in order to keep them from dying,” Sung-Sun added and shook her head, “One of them already broke his own neck. So unsightly, I did not need to see a self-decapitation today.”

  
Mila Rose pointed you in the direction of said martyr- dying for a king that might or might not have been his. It was the one Bambietta and Candice were with; you recognized him as you stalked closer.

  
“Ah, good ol’ Gerard, always one to take the spotlight.”

  
“Damn idiot just had to make sure we couldn’t get a kill in at the end. Now that pretty lion girl got all the glory.”

  
“Didn’t you give me a fucking lecture on loyalty?” you interrupted their banter and spat on the ground next to Valkyrie’s corpse, “Now look at you.”

  
They seemed to understand you were not condemning their actions; not that it mattered what you thought. But suddenly the tides had turned and you were on the same side. A flip of a coin, flicking a switch. War seemed to help with that.

  
Valkyrie was a strange sight and you wondered how much of it was owed to the treatment he received after death. You saw where he dug his fingers into his own neck, where he tugged and tore until his head came loose like a doll’s. Like a miracle, if you so wanted. The stump of his neck was leaking into the sand.

  
“I never really felt like the Schutzstaffel were part of us, you know,” Candice told you and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Gerard here was way too high and mighty, and Pernida’s a goddamn hand. Not that the newcomer and Commander Sparkles were any better.”

  
“ _Sparkles?_ ”

  
“Hey,” she replied and shrugged, “Haschwalth hasn’t come back so we can insult him all we want. Only Bazz ever really cared about him, anyway.”

  
“Who else came back?”

  
It was a question you should have asked before, way earlier when there had never been plans for a rebellion. It could have saved a life, maybe, or just helped to organize their scattered troops.

  
Bambietta tapped a finger against her chin as she pondered your question.

  
“Well, the two of us, the Schutzstaffel- then Bazz and maybe Kurosaki’s friend, although we haven’t seen him in ages.”

  
“That’s all?”

  
“As Nodt,” Candice continued and shuddered, “I hate that guy. I think some of the others got killed already. “

  
“What do you mean _you think_?” you said and frowned, “How can you not know?”

  
Then again, you realized, the new Espada were dead and gone, too. You saw Shawlong writhing on the ground like a worm, whining and gasping for air. His life in exchange for Mila Rose’s speech. The weight of your lungs suddenly hurt.

  
Cirucci was removed in a similar fashion; always by the Quincy who sent their regards as soon as trouble stirred among the Hollows.

  
Luppi died without a sound.

  
Aaroniero had never been alive in the first place.

  
Ggio was gone.

  
Only two down here with you. Everything that should be dead returned to the sand, as if the wasteland made sure to be paid its dues.

  
It was information you hadn’t examined often- it had been there so long you didn’t remember where it even came from.

  
“We don’t know about everything that’s going on with our people,” Bambietta told you, “Those four elites were responsible for any messages from the Soul King and everyone else was not in the loop. I haven’t spoken with them in ages.”

  
“And I am new here,” Candice explained to you and smiled wryly, “But I bet you figured that out already. I’ve only just found my way here from the desert.”

  
It was strange to hear how late she arrived but you had seen for yourself that Yuzu and Karin only made their way to the outskirts when the world was already falling apart again. Suspicion was useless now, anyway. Another time, another possibly misplaced feeling of trust.

  
“That means we gotta knock them all out and keep them contained,” you muttered, “Well, fuck me.”

  
“Or we could try to negotiate,” Candice said, frowning, “Which, true, would be boring, but it might save us all some time.”

  
You considered that idea, considered teaming up with those few who were left. It should not be so reminiscent of your time with the shinigami forces over three years ago.

  
Nel came to join you as if she sensed you were considering something significant, something that might possibly turn all of this around. All of the wasteland against one Soul King.

  
“Do you think they would listen to you?” she asked and it was not an insult, just a question. Because loyalty always sounded sweet until you were stabbed in the back, torn open by a soul you just happened to rely on.

  
Bambietta exchanged looks with Candice.

  
“Well” she said, “I used to be friends with Nakk Le Vaar but he has completely ignored me since we woke up in this world. And since Lille and Pernida aren’t here I can’t make any promises, to be honest.”

  
“Can you try to reason with the one that’s here at least?” Nel asked.

  
“I’d rather not.”

  
The answer was clipped and curt, another kind of betrayal. Bambietta did not seem like the kind of person to be easily swayed.

  
“Aw, why so gloomy?” Candice asked you because you were frowning, “Look at the two of us here, helping you out and all. We were so inspired by your actions we just had to accept you as our lord and savior. Isn’t that right, Bambi?”

  
“Eh,” Bambietta said, “Yeah, sure. That.”

  
“Ishida might listen if we could find him.”

  
Nel brought you back on track with her thoughts, her tone amiable but hurried. It wasn’t like the battlefield around you condoned hesitance.

  
“You think?”

  
“He knows we were with Kurosaki,” Nel continued and you ignored the glint in her eyes, “Last time that was enough to change his mind right at the end, maybe it’ll be the same now.”

  
_Last time._ A reminder and a threat at once. There were still things she did not know about your time in the Soul King’s palace.

  
“So your elites know what’s going on, huh?” you mumbled and scowled, “Does that include the third assault?”

  
“Well, at least we don’t remember shit about that,” Bambietta said, “Except seeing a few people before the explosion screwed us all. The higher ups might be different.”

  
An explosion up in the sky and then the world came crashing down. The first days of many searching for a group of people you never saw again. Just a few, just humans and shinigami and Quincy. It shouldn’t matter. They shouldn’t count.

  
“Well,” Nel said, “As you said, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. We have that one over there who seems to be mostly out of commission anyway.”

  
“Nakk Le Vaar?” Candice mused and craned her neck, “I haven’t spoken to him in years, but I suppose he is less weird compared to Pernida, considering he isn’t a giant hand-”

“He wasn’t with you between the war and the third assault,” you interrupted, “So he can tell us jack shit about it.”

  
You could feel Nel’s stare on you, her confusion and possibly concern. It was something you had not told anyone yet- as if your foolishness was contagious.

  
No matter how close you were there were certain secrets you did not share. A rebellion for her; an alliance with a deserter Quincy for you.

  
Trust. You still had a lot to learn- but there was that feeling of unease again. Why hadn’t you told her? Why had you turned your back on the things you worked to get?

  
“I mean, true, but better than nothing,” Candice shrugged and started walking off, “What are you waiting for? Gotta get this over with and then move all these fuckers to one place. Or have you forgotten that two of their little squad still haven’t even shown up?”

  
It was a short walk, backtracking only. Your heart beat faster than it should as if retracing your steps could cost you another limb. Nothing was irreversible.

  
“Hey, Askie!” Candice called out with her arms akimbo, “Listen up, okay?”

  
Askin lifted his head off the ground just slightly to indicate he was listening. His left arm looked broken with the way he cradled it against his chest.

  
“Look,” Bambietta whispered behind you, “I’m not fucking talking to him first until he apologizes for ignoring me for ages. War or not, it’s his damn turn.”

  
Candice shrugged and grabbed you by the arm, dragged you with her until you stood in front of Askin.

  
He managed to meet your eyes just barely. A light purple, dimmer than you remembered.

  
“The Soul King’s going down,” Candice said, “Whaddya say?”

  
From behind you there were a few muttered complaints about her lack of eloquence and diplomacy. You ignored them; there was still that pesky thought of cooperation and tearing down the established order with your band of misfits.

  
Askin smiled.You knew what it looked like when he was happy.

  
“Oh no,” he said and kept on smiling, his eyes sliding closed, “I’m afraid you’re too late for that.”

  
The power of his Vollständig crashed into you with enough force to sent you flying into someone. Underestimation. Forgetting the notion of flight once more.

  
Askin’s wings flapped and a storm ran through you, pressed everyone close to the ground with the sheer force of their movement. They were huge and looked like a bird’s, complete with feathers and a massive span. They ripped him off the sand and into the air within a second.

  
“Bastard!” Bambietta spat and sent an explosion after him, up in the sky, “What do you think is gonna happen to you if they decide you’re expendable?”

  
No answer, just a shout into the nothing the wasteland was.

  
“We’ll go after him,” Candice told you as she disentangled her limbs from yours and jumped to her feet, her mass of hair clumped with sand, “He’s going to Las Noches, you guys better hurry and catch up!”

  
Their wings appeared without a hitch and they set off running, no time wasted, no second lost. Candice had wings made of lightning, Bambietta’s were like light only. Radiant, sizzling. A reminder of their strength.

  
You jumped to your feet, made sure Nel was alright and beside you. There was a ringing in your ears, a poison in your skull. Faster, faster.

  
“You heard them,” Nel shouted at the remaining few gathered around you, “Let’s hurry the hell up!.”

 

* * *

 


	35. through repetition they will learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like plot twists a lot. And dialogue.
> 
> Y'know what I don't like so much?  
> Fight scenes.
> 
> Warning for: fight scenes. (also blood. and some violence.)

* * *

 

 

Las Noches was alight with charges of reiatsu as Harribel’s Garganta snapped shut behind you.

  
“You started it, you know,” Pantera reminded you as you watched the fight unfold for just one moment of orientation, “You cut your arm and they saw it as their signal to strike.”

  
“Let them,” you said under your breath, “Let them try. They’d take anything as a sign.”

  
Bazz B charged past you and his wings followed- long stripes of energy fluttering fast enough to saw through living matter. They crackled in the heavy air; it was hard to breathe.

  
Harribel and her fracciónes emerged to your left and didn’t hesitate; it was Nel who came to a stop at your side.

  
“Hey,” she said quietly, “Before we walk a little closer to certain death and all, are you mad at me?”

  
“What do you think?”

  
“I tried to talk to you, about all this. I tried to help. But I still feel like I could have done more.”

  
“What about the pills?” you asked, “You said you couldn’t risk getting caught. Was that a lie?”

  
Nel shook her head and looked angry now, her lips a tight line and her forehead creased. Honest, so weirdly honest while talking about lies.

  
“We got them from the Quincy, from the inside,” she told you, “I would not let you hurt yourself just to keep up pretenses. I never doubted your intentions.”

  
You stayed quiet, tried to desperately to hate her for just a second.

  
“I wanted to do more,” Nel said and closed her eyes, “But you never talked to me for the first years. I only realized how bad it had gotten when it was already almost too late.”

  
And you found again that you couldn’t remember why you didn’t tell her. There was no anger to feel, just confusion. It didn’t make sense- you trusted her more than you ever thought you could, it should have been your first thought to go to her for support.  
“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, ”Keep it. We’re fine. Let’s go kill some of them.”

  
Nel didn’t quite laugh but she didn’t frown either as she prepared Gamuza and jumped into the fray. You followed her without delay. Perhaps there was something to be said later, words about trust and loyalty and communication but it was not the time.

  
There was another battlefield ahead.

 

* * *

 

 

It took you all but one second to figure out something was wrong.

  
People never gave you credit for being observant; you were the brash, the brute, the loud one.

  
Of course you were confused at first and ripped right into the vortex of irrational fear. Anger was the second step.

 

Anger also led you into Askin’s poison trap, enhanced by the restlessness and again, _that damn confusion_. Where to go, how to act, what to say.

  
Now you were calm and prepared and there was something wrong.

  
“Why are they moving like that?” you asked Harribel who was close to you, “What the fuck is happening?”

  
Her eyes narrowed and that was all you needed to know. She agreed, she saw it too.

  
Before you the battle raged between the last of the Soul King’s Quincy and the ragtag group you were suddenly a part of. There was Nel, carving green gashes into the air, targeting all of them at once. Bambietta and Candice, moving in synch around the spindly creature’s emaciated form; As Nodt was what they had called him. Harribel’s fracciónes fought a Quincy you had never seen before, a large scantily-clad man with sunglasses.

  
Bazz B hounded Askin around the tops of the highest buildings; keeping him from turning the entire roof into a poisonous hell of a place. The pillars of flame he used burned everything in their wake; you smelled them, the ashes raining down.

  
Kurosaki’s friend was not around, as if the Quincy prince himself felt no need to join his people’s quarrels. Your heart was vengeful enough to deny he ever changed his mind the first time around.

  
None of these things were a problem; none of them came remotely close to the stiffness of your enemies’ movement, the choppy motions that looked like they were pulled along on strings.

  
It was the most apparent with As Nodt; his lanky arms were a puppet’s, his head turned with the precision of handles on a clock.

  
One sonido later you were in the middle of it, that strange battle on top of the world.

  
“They’re being controlled,” you hissed at Bambietta as you blocked her way, “The Soul King wants us to fucking kill them, so-”

  
Her wings twitched in disapproval, as if her frown alone could not have told you how she felt.

  
Behind you Candice was holding her own against the creature born of fear, its eyes as large and lidless as the leeches’. The sound of her lightning bolts was overwhelmingly loud. You tasted the singed flesh on your tongue, the back of your teeth.

  
“That’s too convenient,” Bambietta told you, “What, you’re saying we shouldn’t fight ‘em?”

  
The thought was just there, all off a sudden, the knowledge that there was something more going on. Pantera questioned it all and worried, strongly, because your memory didn’t work like it should.

  
“I’m saying they’re gonna fucking explode themselves if that can turn the tides as soon as it looks like they’re gonna lose, so just-”

  
It was comedic timing, a twist of fate, that a giant bang interrupted and silenced you.

  
A quick glimpse over your shoulder showed you the sky in flames and a burst of reiatsu that coveted the air above Las Noches. You saw two bodies falling, wings being ripped apart by the plunge deep down. They hit the roof and you didn’t have to question who the first people to end their fight were. Wings like a bird’s and those that looked like beams of light.

  
Harribel reacted faster than you could.

  
“Cascada,” she said; casually, composed. You had fought her once in the time between wars- her Segunda Etapa against yours with only the sky as a witness. Pantera laughed as she remembered it, conveniently leaving out the part where she trembled in poorly disguised fear.

  
In the wasteland you had been busy with your own condition. It had never occurred to you others found strength where there was only ruin for you.

  
Cascada used to be a single stream of water engulfing its enemies; now there were at least five. They were pillars of ice, as well, glaciers that fell and stopped the battle within an instant.

  
As Nodt stood still in front of you, the clockwork broken. Eyes as large as the ones you used to see in your bleeding flesh. At least these did not move.

  
“Fuck, she’s awesome,” you heard Candice say under her breath, “Did you see that? Holy shit. _Holy shit_.”

  
She was fidgeting about, examining the icy pillars and poking Bambietta’s side. She behaved like a child; made you wonder how serious she took the situation. Every second could be another arrow in your back.

  
Bambietta was quieter; you remembered how Bazz B was confused by that at first. What he spoke of were times when she exploded and killed everyone in her way. A change in the wasteland, not a care in the world.

  
“Have you seen Bazz?” Abarai asked, as loud as he was worried.

  
You had. Falling like a star. Somehow you had believed that was not enough to hurt him, as if suddenly everyone involved was invincible just because you didn’t want them to die.

  
It was never that easy.

  
There was no victory fanfare, no dramatic speech. One second you were feeling fine, lighter than you had in years. The next there was the feeling of approaching death, familiar by now.

  
Too many things happened at once and you couldn’t make sense of them quickly enough.

  
A scream at your side as the ice cracked and long spidery fingers reached out into the world. You heard the electricity as it sparked again, the bombs and the grinding of Abarai’s zanpakuto as its spine unraveled.

  
Harribel stumbled and bumped into you; the field of deadly pressure expanded and blanketed everyone around. She was bleeding, badly.

  
“That’s As Nodt,” Bambietta hissed and tried to stay upright, “Fucking fear itself.”

  
Thin bone claws from out of this world, surgical scars all over a mangled body. You saw the creature where it was born anew from its ice cage, howling like a Vasto Lorde.

  
A cero formed in your hand, a rapidly swirling red vortex. No second to waste; your breathing was irregular and your new arm heavier than you could handle.

  
Another burst of ominous reiatsu snuffed out yours like a weak candle. This one you recognized, a terror beyond fear.

  
“Fuck,” Apacci cursed out loud, “The fuck is this one? I can’t breathe-”

  
Candice looked at you and of course there was recognition.

  
“The Deathdealing,” she said and gritted her teeth in anger, “If he’s still alive, then Bazz-”

  
But you were not given a break, none of you.

  
The lightning came from the sky like a sort of divine judgment; you were sure that was exactly why the Quincy emperor chose it for himself.

  
Gigantic pillars of light enveloped the remaining Sternritter. Wings burned in a flash; you heard them scream, one cacophony that suddenly did not distinguish between friend or foe.

  
As Nodt did not disintegrate; but most of the others did, bones gnawed blank and then pulverized.

  
The sinister poisonous power vanished the second the light hit the ground.

  
The Quincy who had fought the Tres Bestias, the man with the sunglasses, burned bright for just a second, a darting flame, a corpse mauled by a creature with vicious teeth. His shrieks culminated in a shrill scream that sounded like a name; one you had never expected to hear again.

 

* * *

 

 

_You spoke to Uryuu Ishida once only, in that weird summer between worlds where his betrayal still mattered and the sun was not gone._

  
_All you knew about him was what others had told you- and those two moments where he first attacked Kurosaki and then switched sides at the last possible moment._

  
_Orihime had many stories of the times ‘Ishida-kun’ helped her and her friends, how he risked his life and lost his powers all to save a person he barely knew. How he learned to accept his faults and move on from the effects of his stubbornness. Pride was important but also dangerous._

  
_She sounded so happy to tell you he had never truly betrayed them that you forget to be jealous for a second. Irrational envy was the worst- you knew it was petty, you knew that it didn’t matter._

  
_Askin told you a different story, mentioned Ishida in passing as someone he didn’t hate but never admired, either. The next in line for the crown of the century._

  
_So when you went to Kurosaki’s place late in the evening and found Ishida there, waiting as well, you didn’t know what to say._

  
_“Oh,” was how he started your conversation, “You’re that Espada.”_

  
_“You’re that Quincy,” you replied and scowled, “I remember almost bashing your head in.”_

  
_It was, of course, an awkward situation after that. For a while you just stared, sizing each other up as if either of you was about to jump into a fight. Right there on Kurosaki’s windowsill you wondered if this decision could continue the blood war. This time it would be against you- because who would believe you if they found both of you dead?_

  
_“I don’t like you,” Ishida told you and then lowered his eyes, “Nevertheless I suppose I should thank you, for helping them when I didn’t.”_

  
_He pushed his glasses up on his nose and stood so still you knew he was not calm. As if you were a dangerous animal and every wrong move could set off your killer instinct._

  
_It first occurred to you that he was as anxious as you were- there was a balance that needed to be kept to-_

  
_“To do what, Grimmjow?” Pantera asked you and she was genuinely scared, “To stay friends with all these people? Why is that what you want? You can’t have it, Grimmjow. When have we ever had that?”_

  
_“I helped ‘em because I had to,” you growled, “Charity wasn’t a fucking part of it.”_

  
_“That sounds exactly what I would have said just a while ago. Minus the expletives.”_

  
_“Worry about your own fucking psyche before ya try to analyze me,” you replied and hopped into the room, “Fuck, you sound like-”_

  
_“-like Szayelaporro Granz?” Ishida interrupted you, “Believe me, he and I were nothing alike.”_

  
_The insecurities were all across his face. Sprayed on with paint they would not have been any more obvious. It made sense, you supposed, he had tried to go about winning the war one way and miscalculated- the empire did not allow him to destroy it from within no matter how hard he tried._

  
_“I was gonna say you sound like Kurosaki,” you corrected him with a smirk, “Or any other of his stupid friends. Always trying to empathize with people coming to take them down.”_

  
_“Is that what you’re here for?”_

  
_Ishida’s voice was stern. However, if you knew any of them at all then he was reluctant, too, still trying to figure out where to fit in with all this._

  
_“I’m here for-_

  
_Kurosaki opened the door to his room and walked inside without a care in the world. He dropped his bag in the corner, threw his jacket on the ground and-_

  
_“Huh?” he said and blinked several times._

  
_Ishida and you looked at him without saying a word. The situation just became even stranger without trying._

  
_“Well,” Kurosaki began and smiled lopsidedly,”This is the last thing I expected to find in my room, to be honest.”_

  
_He looked older now, less stressed. There was still that gentleness about him, that warmth that infuriated you as much as it kept you by his side during battle._

  
_“Hey, Grimmjow-” he called out after you as you turned to leave. All you offered him was a lazy wave of the hand._

  
_Pantera informed you that running was cowardly._

  
_You ran, anyway. You could wait if you had to. It never occurred to you that you wouldn’t have enough time._

 

* * *

 

 

Ishida didn’t magically appear in the wasteland just because one of his former Quincy comrades screamed his name like a summoning ritual. The name stayed, though, rang in your ears. You weren’t even sure he was alive. All you knew was that he had never been among the Sternritter out here.

  
“What’s going on?” Apacci hissed at no one in particular, “Why the hell is the Soul King killing all of them?”

  
It made no sense at all; a nonsensical spontaneous act of violence like one of your intrusive thoughts. The wasteland took what the wasteland had created, giving meaning to a few people that turned to ash in the real world.

  
“He isn’t killing-” Candice gasped and clutched her arm to her chest, “He isn’t killing us. _Er wählt uns aus_.”

  
Mila Rose was the first to move and drag the Quincy further away from the deadly beam of light, made sure she did not stumble back in. With Candice safe you focused on Bambietta, tugged her out of the Auswählen’s range.

  
“I was fine on my own,” she pouted, “Be a real Hollow and stop saving people all the time, already.”

  
“Don’t make me out to be some goddamn saint,” you replied, “Didn’t ya hear? Can’t let you die or the Soul King gets powered up.”

  
Bambietta tried very hard not to grin. Last time you saved her she had not been so optimistic, had not even known how to speak. A mess on the ground, blood all over her shiny emblems.

  
Her recovery had taken time and you were not there to witness it at all; you met her in the outskirts sometimes, got to know her as quiet and as out of the loop as you were. It changed later, day by day, until she grew confident and accepted your offer to take in a dying Arrancar.

  
Right now she smoothed down her hair, brushed off some ashes. Bambietta was shorter than any of the other Quincy by a long shot and compensated for it with a iron will or at least the facade of it. You saw how she straightened her back compulsively, how she worried her bottom lip so much it bled. The wasteland was not a good place to get better.

  
“You alright?” she asked you and frowned, “You look like you’re spacing out.”

  
“Also you have a metal arm,” Candice added, prodding the side of it, “I think I just fractured a bone in mine. Are there any other metal arms out there I could have?”

  
It took you off guard how they immediately shifted from the behavior as your enemies to this one; from the people supervising your every move to benign companions.

  
Things had been stagnant for so long that rapid change threw you off balance- an acceleration in this constant stream of bullshit happening to you. Suddenly there was a step up from Luppi as your worst evil. With him dead you subconsciously searched for someone to blame- first the other Espada, then the Quincy. It left you wondering how to progress in the future.

  
“I just don’t like Yhwach,” Apacci said somewhere close, scowling down at the ashen remains of one of the Sternritter. The Auswählen had dissolved his physical form within seconds.

  
“Yeah, he’s just too damn o.p.,” Candice agreed and shook her head.

  
“I know right? Who calls himself the “Almighty” anyway?”

  
Bambietta seemed very agitated about that question and continued mumbling curses under her breath.

  
“So you’ve been working together?” you asked all of them, hoping for at least one decent answer.

  
“No one in their right mind would want this world,” Sung-Sun told you, “Realizing that was easy for all of us.”

  
“We tried to see what you wanted, y’know?” Candice asked you, “Do you remember? I asked you about your friends and all. I get why you lied, really, but we were all wondering what the fuck was going on in your head.”

  
You wanted to answer. You wanted to do a great many things.

  
Candice cried out as if she had been the one hit as As Nodt grabbed hold of Bambietta.

  
Skeletal fingers dragging her into the light again, a crumbling body so desperate to aid its emperor in battle it couldn’t die just yet. He was rotting, rotting from the inside out.

  
Harribel and you moved at the same time.

  
“This isn’t gonna end well for any of us,” Pantera said quietly, “Not if there is no other way but forward.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won nanowrimo with this hunk o' junk this year but it's still not done.  
> help.


	36. Conquest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: abuse mention and aftermath, violence, ptsd as far as I can judge it, some body horror in the form of a leg that is far from okay.
> 
> I have sth to say about my portrayal of Giselle in this fic and will accept criticism aimed at that happily, tbh. The thing is I hate the fact that the only canon trans character was made to be a creepy asshole but on the other hand I don't want to gloss over the very very explicit sexual and physical abuse she put Bambietta through. I am still torn on how to properly proceed with this in general but in this fic I kept what she did in canon as part of this and expanded on the abuse aspect. Tell me your thoughts on this if you have any, this is a topic that will go on in this fic for quite a while. I hope I treated it with respect.

* * *

 

 

_Bambietta was crying when you first met her, wailing like a wounded animal with a spear still lodged in its side._

  
_She was stuck in a trap in the middle of the desert, her leg crushed and blood pooling underneath the shining metal of her emblems. The longer she struggled the less they shone._

  
_As you approached she didn’t see you at first, as if your presence was hidden at all or your appearance easy to mistake for another._

  
_She screamed and screamed until you knew it was not her wound that hurt her at all._

  
_You were still new to the wasteland. In that regard it felt reminiscent of your first days in Hueco Mundo- regaining your balance took time, adapting your instincts to ‘survival’ only._

  
_Bambietta- and you didn’t know that was her name at this point in time- was wired differently. Even without extensive knowledge of the Sternritter’s situation out here you knew within a second she wasn’t expecting to survive._

  
_“No, no, no, no,” was what she screamed and whisper-shouted over and over, pressing her palms against her ears, “I’m not yours. I’m my own. I’m no one’s anything.”_

  
_She bit her lips until they bled, her eyes shut so tightly her lashes should have carved patterns into her skin. Row after row on her cheekbones._

  
_The first thing that you noticed about her were her injuries, of course, the next her Quincy cross. You wondered what kind she would be like, if she was going to try and strike a selfish deal or ignore you since you were an abomination._

  
_“Oy,” you called out to her, sauntering closer with no weapon by your side._

  
_No reaction but you expected as much. She didn’t look like she was capable of registering your presence. Stuck in her own little world, a snow globe of a prison._

  
_“Oy, Quincy, look at me,” you tried again._

  
_As you took another step closer you realized your mistake immediately._

  
_Her entire demeanor changed as if you triggered a tripwire._

  
_“Go away,” she snapped at you and wrenched her body backwards, “Go the fuck away!”_

  
_What disturbed you was not her urge to avoid you._

  
_While you had noticed her injured leg before you had not realized how tangled it was in the springtrap wires. Now she moved and her leg refused to move with her; in her panicked state she didn’t seem to care about her flayed nerves dragging across the desert floor. Her kneecap looked broken from what you could tell, the leg bent at an odd angle. Like a puppet with the limbs ripped out of their sockets._

  
_“I’m fine!” Bambietta screamed, “Don’t come any closer!”_

  
_She crawled and her leg dangled as if it was a bone she was going to offer to a dog. Connected by nothing that couldn’t snap. Flesh as thin as twine._

  
_Before you knew her name she was an injured girl in a Quincy uniform struggling to get away from something that wasn’t you but could have worn your skin; a threat, a danger, anything unlike a magical cure for her leg. You wondered if you looked the same when Luppi sawed off your arm and left you to bleed._

  
_“Don’t take my leg, too,” Bambietta whispered and pressed her palms against her eyes, “Please don’t be mad again.”_

  
_She kept on tugging, ripped more and more of her leg off until you cracked open the springtrap for her._

  
_“You owe me a favor,” you said to her and her empty eyes, “You hear that, Quincy?”_

  
_She didn’t. You dragged her dying body to their doors anyway._

  
_Pantera would have laughed at your naivety- but she was gone and you didn’t care. You needed allies in high places, high enough to touch the sky and the king hiding above._

  
_Bambietta recovered and told you her name, pretended nothing ever happened to her leg or her mind as she awoke out there in the desert._

  
_You remembered her from Askin’s stories; her name was one he mentioned often and with regret. He thought she had died but you knew better now- she had gone beyond death somehow and returned from the brink with her head cracked open._

 

* * *

 

 

Harribel reached As Nodt first and tore into him with the strength of a tsunami. You had not seen her use her Segunda Etapa since that first time after you returned to Las Noches and the transition was so fast now you barely registered them as the same person. Tiburón stayed the same, though, even as it split the monstrous Quincy in half. Her fracciónes followed without delay, ended As Nodt within a second. A cut right through the middle of his emaciated chest.

  
Bambietta was just one second later than them, just the one second that could have been the end. It seemed overly dramatic but you had seen it happen in the wasteland- some faded away over time, some simply disappeared within the blink of an eye.

  
Pantera laughed at that, quietly. She liked to compare things and to her there was a definitive 'worst' here. Of course she did not share her opinion with you.

  
Bambietta neither faded nor disappeared- the enraged expression on her face was a precursor to the explosive outburst of power that stemmed from her small body.

  
You had never known As Nodt, had never spoken to him or heard him speak at all. Maybe he was incapable of it in this form; a mindless creature that only knew its own fear the best. Your human friends would have pitied him, maybe, or found a reason to try and save him. You had no connection, no angle. You were not them and they were dead.

  
So you watched quietly as Bambietta let her anger reign over her former comrade, shoved the molten core of her power into his already mangled chest. As Nodt disintegrated, wheezing, splashing torrents of black fluid across the white rooftop. It ran across the curved ground, soiled your boots.

  
"Fuck," Apacci said, "We had no fucking choice but to kill that one, what if the others lose it, too?"

  
"We will deal with it," Harribel answered, still collected and back in her regular form and attire. Her voice sounded hollow from beneath her mask. There was blood running down her side and if you had not been reeling from the strain you might have known why. It all happened so fast, again, with your broken head and your arm born from a foreign soul.

  
"You're not broken," Pantera said and nudged you, "You are a fool, but 'broken' is not a word used for people. You know that. We know that."

  
She sounded confused. You stayed silent.

  
"It does make you wonder, where do they go when there is no Soul Society?" Sung-Sun mused and you were sure it was not meant for you to hear at all.

  
"The souls?" Candice asked and shrugged, "I think they just, y'know, vanish. Poof. Gone, just like that."

  
It didn't escape your notice that she glanced at Bambietta after she finished her sentence. Her eyes betrayed her fear- what had transpired brought them too close to death, too close to that point where no one truly knew what happened to you. _Join the Soul King, join his hunt._

  
Mila Rose shot you a questioning glance as you took a few shaky steps past her. You shook your head at her offer to help you move- a silent proposal, nothing but an upward-facing palm.

  
"I'm good," you said, "Just need some time to get used to this."

  
A chunk of metal at your side. The thought along had a shiver running down your spine. Somehow it was not quite as bad as another mark of ownership, but its connection to you now ran deeper. It was not flesh you could cut off in a case of emergency.

  
"Hey, where's that friend of yours, anyway?" Candice asked you and shook you from your stupor.

  
_Friend_ was still a word you hadn’'t used for many people in a while so you bristled at first, ready to refute her choice of words. Then you paused, took the time to look around for the first time since you saw Bazz B fall. Mila Rose was closest to you, watching you with curiosity rather than wariness. Apacci fawned over Harribel's wound, Sung-Sun did her best to summon enough energy to heal the deep gash.

  
It was Nel you couldn’t see anywhere.

  
Past As Nodt's corpse there was the pile of ash that had been the other Quincy- the one blaming Ishida with his last breath.

  
"Maybe he was expecting help," Pantera warned you, "Ishida betrayed his friends once, he might have done it again."

  
Somehow you doubted that; even if you disliked him out of jealousy, even if you had never been on great terms. Kurosaki trusted him and you trusted Kurosaki. Even now, it seemed, even beyond death.

  
Candice was trying very hard not to seem concerned for Bambietta who sat down as far away from the corpse as she could manage. Those two, you noticed once again, those two had a strange relationship and it seemed like something you needed to figure out in order to understand them.

  
"What, adding more Quincy to your list of people that will end up betraying you?" Pantera asked and she was hurt, "Was the one with the poison not enough for you? Learn your lesson, Grimmjow, there is no-"

  
"You alright?" you asked Bambietta and abruptly shut the voice of your zanpakuto out. Every step closer to the Quincy was a gamble, the weight of your new limb dragging you down as much as the exhaustion had. You still felt good, somehow, with no leeches blinking away your blood vessels.

  
Bambietta did not answer. Candice glanced at you with concern, helpless. She looked like she wanted to reach out and didn't know how to- as if she wasn't allowed, as if they had never talked about what they were. You knew the feeling.

  
"Have you seen Nel?" you asked and finally voiced your own worry, "I haven’t seen her since this whole mess started."

  
You weren't sure what kind of answer you hoped for- maybe it was supposed to be as much of a distraction for them as it was for you. Nel was the only one unaccounted for, with Abarai hurrying off in the direction Bazz B had vanished to.

  
"Not sure," Candice answered and scratched her head, looked back at Bambietta and her blank stare, "I don't really- I can't-"

  
"Yeah, okay," you said, nodded, "I'll find her myself."

  
She was grateful you backed down and left them to their own devices. The expression on Bambietta's face was the same you had seen when you first met her- as if something, or someone, ripped her out of this reality and back into one she feared more than anything else. War demanded casualties with an insatiable hunger, uncaring what side they were on. Her story was one you could only guess.

  
However, finding Nel came first.

  
"Oy Harribel!" you called out, a little too rude and a little too loud, "Have you seen-"

  
- _Nelliel_ , you finished out loud but there was no sound, no words for them to hear. For a moment you were sure there was something wrong with you; the next you were pressed flat to the surface of Las Noches.

  
The arrival of a new wave of reiatsu blindsided you, blurred your vision until the spurt of fire in the distance spread out into swirls of colors and shapes. It alienated you from the world within just a breath, stole the air right out of your lungs.

  
There were the remains of the Deathdealing among it, but also others- you recognized the shrill ringing of Lille Barro’s power, the dark grip of the last Schutzstaffel member you had never personally met. They arrived just in time, three of them left to push all Arrancar over the edge.

  
“Fucking Pernida, how the fuck did you even walk up here with no legs?” Candice shouted at the hooded figure.

  
Your weakness haunted you out here, your arrogance pushed you to move with nothing to draw strength from. _Never stop moving, never stand still._

  
“Grimmjow!” Nel called out to you and you had two seconds to feel relief knowing she was alive. Then she grabbed hold of you, dragged you to your feet and began to run. There was no choice but to follow her lead. Your eyes fluttered shut and your tongue felt fuzzy but your legs still moved, carried you along with her.

  
“What’s happening?” you slurred, “We gotta fight them-”

  
“Look, I know you want to help and you can, I promise, but later.”

  
“There’s not gonna be a _later_ if this continues.”

  
“Don’t get snappy with me,” Nel scolded you, “You were fucked up and abused for three years, you need to get some goddamn rest and not enter more fights like this. Sit this one out, okay? We got this.”

  
“Do I get a say in this?”

  
“Nope,” Nel said and grinned, “Executive decision made by me, right now, trying to keep you safe. I won’t repeat my mistakes and leave you to fend for yourself because you ask me to.”

  
You scowled at her just because you could, not because you really felt like it. Nel was your friend. There was no reason to distrust her. Not standing still was a thought of the past in which you had nothing but yourself.

  
“Fine,” you growled, petulant as a child, “These don’t count as victories for you, though.”

  
“I’m still in the lead, you sore loser,” she replied and squeezed your side, “Let me make up for not realizing you needed more help earlier, okay?”

  
“By punching some Quincy while I waste away in the goddamn corner? That’s not doing me a favor, that’s taking away the fun-”

  
“Jeez,” Nel sighed, “The end of the world, you’re on the verge of collapsing and you still have to be difficult?”

  
Your grumbled answer did not make her any happier, but her grip was still gentle.

  
A glance over your shoulder showed you that Harribel had gone back into her Segunda Etapa and engaged both of the Quincy, her fracciónes at her side. Candice was there too but you could tell Bambietta had not managed to snap out of her traumatized state.

  
“You should help them,” you said, “I’ll be fine, gonna stay out of trouble if you’re so damn worried.”

  
Nel came to a stop, let go of you. You expected her to go immediately, take care of the Quincy and come back with a goofy smile. Instead she shifted, immediately alerting you again.

  
“You know the other one, don’t you?” she asked you and frowned, “The Quincy I fought before, the one that looks a little like Aizen.”

  
A sting, nothing more.

  
“Yeah, sorta,” you replied and tried to sound casual, ”How’d you guess?”

  
Nel shrugged.

  
“You knew where he was during the time when we had peace.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“I heard rumors,” she continued, “That’s the only reason I bring it up at all.”

  
“What kinda rumors?”

  
Nel sighed and bit her lip as if she was honestly worried you could be hurt; as if after all this there was an awful lot she could save you from.

  
“He is said to be involved with the creation of this whole world, you know,” she said after some hesitation, “With the prisons, as well. A lot of people agree it was probably his power draining all of us in there.”

  
It was not like you hadn’t made the connection- it would be a strange coincidence if draining themselves of blood just so happened to allow a prisoner to escape without it being related to the Deathdealing. You had given that tip to Yoruichi and her friends in the hopes it would work- so seeing them escape meant you were right.

  
“But that’s not it,” Nel continued and fidgeted some more, “Man, I don’t know if this is even the time for this-”

  
“Spit it out.”

  
“They say he is a deserter and the only reason he got back into the ranks with just minor punishments was because he got them Ichigo.”

  
Nel paused and gauged your reaction. There was none, no words either. Kurosaki was dead. The world ended. What was there to say?

  
“What, you think I helped with that?” you spat, “ _That’s_ what people say, right? That I helped Nakk Le Vaar and sold out Kurosaki for it?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“And you believe that?”

  
“Of course I don’t. I just thought you should know,” she added and her eyes were sad, “I want to get all of them on our side, too, and just waltz into the Soul King’s place. It just might not work like that.”

  
“I’ll kill whoever stands between me and ending this world now,” you replied.

  
Nel sighed.

  
“I’m sure you’ll choose the right things. Even if you can be an idiot. And if you don’t, well, then I’ll be there to nudge you in the right direction. Subtly. With a glowing sign.”

  
Nel hugged you and you wondered if maybe this was goodbye; in the way that such comfort seemed too good and peaceful considering what lay ahead. A crutch you could not allow yourself to rely on.

  
You hugged her back anyway because this world was shit and all thoughts of weakness could be damned.

  
“Still an idiot,” she said.

  
Your words of protest reached her as she made a run for the fight again- you saw her laugh before she released Gamuza, threw herself into the fray.

 

* * *

 

 

_Your time in Las Noches after Yhwach was defeated was different from what you had come to expect from your home. All in all you could separate your life into the stages Hueco Mundo had been subjected to- the state before Aizen, during Aizen, before the Quincy, after the Quincy._

  
_The desert was not on fire anymore. What seemed like an obvious realization only slowly made its way to you- could it be, after all this time, that you were safe in your world?_

  
_Even if Pantera had not protested you would have known better than to believe it. It was too good, too pure. People with thoughts like this all died, all ended in flames before the morning came. You had seen it happen, would continue to see it._

  
_Harribel shared your worries even if you barely spoke of them; she had to because she was the queen. The Quincy's shackles still weighed heavily on her wrists, phantom restraints that kept her awake and alert to all changes._

  
_"Aren't you tired?" you asked her once and she seemed surprised to see you care, "No one's gonna take the crown from you in your sleep, y'know."_

  
_It was supposed to be a joke. Sometimes that was all you could manage._

  
_"I am not afraid to lose my title," Harribel answered and her eyes were cold, stronger than anyone else you ever met, "I am not afraid."_

  
_She was. She didn't know it yet; but her mind splintered and her heart faltered and her fingers shook like anyone else's. Just because she was strong didn't mean she was exempt from fear._

  
_Nel accepted Harribel's flaws as much as her own- you saw her often after the war, bickered with her like siblings would and slept close to her once as neither of you really knew how to move on._

  
_It was such a brittle time, such a pretentiously whimsical summer._

  
_"I want you to be happy, too," Pantera whispered to you once and sounded desperate, "I want you to be safe and warm and around those you can trust."_

  
_"You don't act like it."_

  
_"Because I am scared, Grimmjow. More scared than you and scared for you, all in one. What's gonna be left if your trust is betrayed, your safe space desecrated? I can't let that happen."_

  
_It was how Hollow's worked, after all, and she was not wrong. It was the thought of all you lost that haunted you in the wasteland- of the wasted effort and those fucked up few who dared to turn their back on you._

  
_Nel never did. You knew that, somehow, an inherent wisdom that came from trusting for too long and caring too deeply about someone just like you._

  
_"You and Harribel, huh?" you teased her once and Nel blushed so furiously you thought she was going to burst._

  
_"No, you big dumb jerk!" she replied. Her pout made her look like the child she had not been in a long while._

  
_"Oh, just keep telling yourself that. Whatever makes ya sleep at night, Nelliel-"_

  
_"Grimmjow, I swear, you're gonna get your ass kicked!"_

  
_You won this round even if she was angry, or perhaps because of it. Fighting her was always fun, always a welcome distraction from the restlessness that crept into your bones._

  
_"Y'know, I don't-" she began as you lay panting between the dunes, cuts and scratches healing slowly._

  
_"You don't what?"_

  
_"I don't fall in love with people," Nel confessed quickly and didn't look at you, "I tried, but I just don't seem to be able to."_

  
_"Huh."_

  
_"Yeah, I guess it is kinda weird, huh?"_

  
_You were quiet for a while, the sort of companionable silence that came with beating an empire and reclaiming a world together. A friend. Nel was your friend, one of the first. You snorted as you imagined how proud Orihime would be to hear you say such a thing, how she would clasp her hands together and beam at you._

  
_"It's not weird," you told Nel now and shrugged, "Kurosaki told me about all that shit. You don't wanna date people, I don't wanna bang people. That weird google thing apparently has a name for all of that."_

  
_"Really? What's mine?"_

  
_She sounded excited._

  
_"Fuck if I know."_

  
_"Boo!" Nel said and crossed her arms over her chest, "You spoilsport. You better ask him the next time you see him."_

  
_"Like hell I will."_

  
_You did ask, incidentally. Aromantic was the word Kurosaki gave you and Nel would end up loving it as if she had received a precious gift._

  
_"Hollows are strange," Rukia commented but she said it with a smile, "How happy this makes you. Knowing more about yourself."_

  
_"Don't get sentimental on me, Kuchiki," you growled, "Just because I apologized once doesn't mean you get a free pass at analyzing me."_

  
_"All you said was 'my bad', Jaegerjaquez, and I'll have you know I was analyzing Nel. The nice Hollow here, you know."_

  
_"Yeah," Nel chimed in, "You're the grumpy one."_

  
_It was such a brittle time._

 

* * *

 


	37. suicide king

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter I post today, so make sure to check back on the one before this if you haven't.
> 
> Why do I post two?
> 
> Because this is the E-rated chapter.
> 
> Warnings for: violence, gore, graphic evisceration and body horror, a lot of angst.

* * *

 

 

Lille Barro's X-Axis ripped through the air and you had to dodge the shot.

  
"Stay out of trouble, she said," you muttered, "Yeah, like trouble hasn't been fucking glued to my heels since I got here."

  
"Talking to yourself?" a voice called out to you, "It seems your condition has worsened, Grimmjow."

  
Turning to face whoever was approaching you seemed like the most logical choice of action. Even if it happened to be another enemy you wanted to fight them head-on, not get stabbed in the back at the side of the battlefield.

  
Blond hair, a face entirely scarred by burn marks.

  
"Tesla," you greeted him, surprised he was alive at all.

  
Somehow it seemed so fitting for the wasteland to take all life it had given- Starrk, Luppi, Shawlong, Ggio. Insatiable.

  
"You here to help?" you asked as Tesla stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on the battle.

  
"Apparently."

  
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

  
You grew agitated as he refused to answer your question- Pantera chuckled and said something about the taste of your own medicine.

  
You wanted to ask again, for clarification and to make sense of all that was happening- an attack after you cut off your arm, the Auswählen, another attack. Again, an explanation was not granted to you. In the pattern you had seen there was only one possible next move for the Soul King to make.

  
This time you saw the blinding light coming as it ripped into the Quincy. _Why_ , they had to lament, _why turn against us in the second we throw away our lives for you?_

  
It ended, then, the assault. No sign of Ishida. Only so very few Sternritter survived. Perhaps the Soul King saw their end coming, claimed them for himself again.

  
Tesla tugged Bambietta aside, Candice dragged her ailing body along right behind them.

  
It was Bazz B you were concerned about now; there were light pillars further away where he had fallen.

  
Abarai had followed the same train of thought and made a break for it earlier past the huge streams of deadly light. Taking, taking, taking.

  
So you ran too, ignoring Nel’s demand for you to stay safe.

  
Abarai, Bazz B and Askin were all alive, the latter two coughing up blood even after the Auswählen finished. Both of them had not managed to avoid the attack entirely. It only stopped them for a minute, those burn marks carved into the very idea of themselves.

  
“Stay back!” Bazz B shouted at you. It was meant for Abarai, mostly, who looked like he was about to jump headfirst into their battle, teetering on the brink of it. The words only seemed to spur him on; the telltale signs of Zabimaru targeting its prey forced you into action.

  
“Stop, you fucking-”

  
_Moron_ was what you wanted to say. The only sound that left your throat was a desperate gasp. It didn’t happen gradually anymore, no slow draining of your power. The lack of air just hit you with full force, had you collapsing on the roof within a second. Stars right where you should see the world. It had been a while since the Deathdealing targeted you like this- you had learned not to be afraid of it. But it seemed like that was a different time, not now where you were a target and about to die.

  
Abarai slumped to the ground next to you. It was worse hearing him suffocate since all sound was blurred and fading in your ears- your own voice most of all. Stars in front of your eyes, a pool of despair in your stomach as if you swallowed a void.

  
It hurt worse than you remembered, worse than the poison in your veins that Askin had used all those years ago in the Soul King’s palace. Of course the wasteland twisted his power further, let it focus on the air in your lungs. It felt like you were corrupted from the inside, as if the leeches were growing back and taking the oxygen from you. You could almost feel them again, sharp teeth and squirming, slippery skin against your flesh-

  
“The fuck are you doing?” Bazz B howled from somewhere, “Askin! All of you, what the fuck do you think the Soul King will give you for killing all of us? Y’all are gonna get screwed in the end again, why the fuck are you still fighting for this shithole?”

  
Over the feeling of your lungs being pressed into dust you didn’t hear an answer at all, not from Askin, not from any of the Quincy who had survived the Auswählen. Somewhere outside of your periphery you felt Pernida’s reiatsu burst into a cacophony of screams once more.

  
It was too late. You were dying, starving, suffocating. At some point you lost the ability to tell just what the Deathdealing took from you.

  
Like hooks in your chest, slowly reaching down inside your organs. It felt like a pull on all your insides, tearing them out, ripping you apart piece by piece.

  
Then it was gone again, as quick as it had taken you and you could breathe, miraculously. The sound returned with a click that ruptured your left eardrum, had you dry-heaving within a second. It hurt worse than before, spun the world around on its hinges. Death did taste like this.

  
The metal of your arm scratched across the rough ground as you pushed yourself up. Another fight, preventing another round of torture, you just had to move again, just move and breathe and-

  
“It’s over,” Bazz B said and held you back, “Fuck, you shouldn’t be running around with that arm right now, it’s a damn miracle you can stand at all.”

  
“Is he dead?” you asked, your speech slurred as if your lungs had not caught up with you yet, “Is he _dead_?”

  
He was not, in fact, dead.

  
For a split second you had considered if maybe, just maybe Bazz B’s little speech rattled Askin enough for him to reevaluate his life choices and lay down his weapons.

  
As you gathered your bearings you saw that it had not been a change of mind that saved you from the Deathdealing.

  
Askin had collapsed next to one of Las Noches’ pillars, heaving and spitting blood on the clean white surface below. It was the infection, no doubt about it, eating him up from the inside. Rendered useless even to the Soul King.

  
“Check on your friends,” Bazz B told you and squeezed your arm, “I got this under control. If he tries anything I’ll handle it.”

  
“Listen to yourself,” Askin said and didn’t seem to realize his old comrade couldn’t hear him, “So self-assured and confident. Watch out, you might scare me.”

  
He vomited blood this time. You didn’t know what to say at all. He didn’t either; he couldn’t speak anymore.

  
“We-” you began and gasped, the air still feeling sparce, “We have to make sure no more of them die.”

  
“Yeah, of course,” Bazz B agreed and frowned, “What about it?”

  
“Fuck, don’t you get it? Someone will have to stay behind.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“You owe me a fight,” you said one warm evening with summer still in its languid phases. It was not a novel thought to you, something you had mulled over for months now._

  
_Askin lifted his eyebrows; always with his expectant curiosity._

  
_“Oh?”_

  
_“Don’t think I forgot you poisoned me. I want a rematch, no bullshit, no tricks.”_

  
_“I-”_

  
_“No excuses. ‘m not asking for a duel to the death, for fuck’s sake.”_

  
_Pantera wondered why you didn’t. She questioned your decision to hold back on your intent to kill in all of your battles, in the sparring sessions you had asked of several people. Perhaps it was the fear that one death and only one could tip the scales and destroy your brittle peace. Perhaps it was something else entirely in this instant, something you did not have a name for that clawed its way into your chest._

  
_Askin sat on the edge of the building with his legs crossed; you saw the nervous habits emerge as you made your offer. Tapping his gloved fingertips against his knees, over and over. Swiping that stray strand of hair behind his ear. He had been calmer for a while now, less tense in your presence. You wanted to keep him like that._

  
_“I don’t think I am the kind of opponent you are looking for,” he said and pressed his lips together, “I’m not exactly the ‘fighting for fun’ sort of guy.”_

  
_“What, you think you’re too good for it?”_

  
_“If I fight, I fight to kill,” Askin answered, shrugged, “Close combat is not my specialty, either.”_

  
_You frowned at him, balancing your sword on its edge._

  
_“And...?” you asked as he did not elaborate on his own._

  
_“I would not prove a challenge unless you want to be incapacitated,” he replied and smiled wryly, “That sounds arrogant, doesn’t it?”_

  
_“A little.”_

  
_“What I am saying is that it’s not that fun to manipulate other people’s bodies. I’m not a pacifist by any means but I won’t just use the Deathdealing when it isn’t absolutely necessary. So if I decided to fight you it would be without that power- and I am afraid while I may know how to hold a sword that doesn’t mean I could be the kind of opponent you want. Our techniques and tactics don’t match, sorry.”_

  
_He laughed as he saw the look on your face. Grudging acceptance._

  
_“Just admit you’re a fucking coward,” you muttered, disgruntled._

  
_“I do also appreciate the occasional strategic retreat, yes.”_

  
_“Yeah, like a damn coward.”_

  
_“I hate to bring this up to prove a point,” Askin said and twirled his hand in a dramatic gesture, “But I did beat you, making use of all available resources at my disposal.”_

  
_“Cowardly resources.”_

  
_“I can offer you coffee, now, to make up for such horrible misconducts. My treat, of course.”_

  
_“It better be.”_

  
_You saw him relax, scrapped your plans to fight and plopped down next to him close to the precipice of the bustling street. Back then you wanted to bump your shoulder into his, make sure he knew that it was not hatred that led you to ask for a fight._

_But what began to come to you easier with time was still dormant and uncertain at that point and you stayed still, just out of reach._

  
_So instead you went back to talking. For one reason or another; for just a little while. You still frowned more than you smiled; but you smiled, at any rate._

  
_The summer was warm; the summer was short._

  
_You would miss this, miss it more than you ever feared._

 

* * *

 

 

Bazz B told you to check on your friends and that was what you did.

  
Askin was propped up against a pillar, his skin so ashen and waxy you were not even sure he was still alive.

  
As you squatted down you saw he was still breathing, albeit shallowly. It seemed the sudden proximity of another person stirred something within him.

  
“Hey, Arrancar,” Askin murmured and cocked his head with the smallest smile he could muster. His eyelids fluttered like shutters during a storm, pulling him down and back to unconsciousness. No wings now, no escape.

  
“The infection?” you asked and it was obvious what you meant.

  
Askin grimaced. You saw the sweat beading on his brow, the feverish flush to his cheeks.

  
“They’re in my lungs,” he said and coughed violently, “That’s fascinating. If I were to write a book I am sure this would be of terrific shock value.”

  
You didn’t know what to say, not with the creatures inside his chest writhing fast enough for you to sense. Their movement was uncontrolled, hectic; as if they wanted to speed this up at all cost. If you had to guess then this was the Soul King’s attempt at disposing of evidence.

  
There were so many things you wanted to ask him, a million doubts and accusations.

  
“You’re staring,” Askin told you and there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth now, “If I didn’t know any better I would think you feel bad for me.”

  
After all that happened you were not sure you could stomach the idea of him dying; you were angry, sure, but never angry enough anymore.

  
Askin had chosen this, hadn’t he? Just a sad crumpled heap of flesh now, worn thin and driven mad with the feeling of parasites devouring his organs.

  
If you allowed yourself to believe that theory then it was a voice in his head and a stranger’s veins commanding the meat on his bones. Control would be an excuse. An explanation. You wanted it to be true and that was exactly why you couldn’t hope for it.

  
Askin pressed his lips together and tried to sit up a little. You sensed the increased movement a second before he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. Everything about his reiatsu told you that this was the end of the line for him; but he was not dying, not even as the leeches dug into his heart. They tore him apart from the inside out; slow and unrelenting.

  
You felt the urge to reach out but never found the strength to lift your hand.

  
“It’s kind of funny,” he said and groaned, trembling like someone was vehemently shaking him, “Hilarious. Such irony. I would go for a play on words including _lethal_ but-”

  
He paused to throw up more blood, bubbling up between his lips. It wasn’t just a liquid, you could see bits of flesh and bone within. Askin pressed a hand against his lips and stared at the red on his fingertips with the surprise of someone not caught up with reality.

  
“I’m the _Deathdealing_ ,” he chuckled even around a mouthful of his own intestines, “And yet it doesn’t matter what you do, I’m not gonna die even if you smash and grind this rotten body into pulp.”

  
Another gulp. Askin winced as the leeches reached his throat. You saw them move now, bulging under the skin, twitching and twisting. Stretching the skin like engorged veins. He gasped, clutching his chest.

  
“ _Dealing_ , not _receiving_ ,” he said and smiled with a hand on his neck now, shaking, “I can’t have death for myself.”

  
“How can you be so sure?”

  
Your throat was ash. You knew the answer.

  
“Because I used to try,” Askin said, eyes wide and teeth chattering, “Over and over again until my lungs were bleeding, but His Majesty does not take kindly to us choosing the time of our death. We live for him, we die for him, at his demand. But that’s not really what you want to know, right? Blades don’t work. Nothing cuts deep or fast enough.”

  
He produced a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat as the leeches kept on digging; through the flesh and bone and soft, soft tissue. There was blood coming from his mouth and nose.

  
You had not paid attention to it before but you saw from up close how high he wore his collar; hiding those lines, those brands. A different three years. Your heart seized in your chest as if someone squeezed down on it.

  
“Now it’s up to the infection or you, I suppose,” he continued, “I would ask you to make it quick but I might not have the right.”

  
Your fingers trembled with suppressed anger. _Did you ever fucking consider I don’t wanna do this at all?_

  
“Did you sell me out?” you asked, “What’s going on with all of this? What do you know?”

  
“Like _knowing_ would do you any good, ” Askin claimed and this time he vomited black goo, alive and throbbing, “ _Did_ I sell you out? Maybe. Probably. What’s it to me, really?”

  
You remembered what Orihime said, what everyone repeated endlessly as you made your way through the palace. _Learn how to trust._

  
“Fuck,” you said, “What the hell do you want me to do?”

  
There was nothing to answer, just like there was nothing for him to breathe and torrents of black blood pouring down his immaculate uniform. It seemed to catch up with him now, the lack of oxygen and the pain dampened by adrenaline.

  
Askin convulsed and clawed at his useless throat; a flayed corpse, a puppet with strings wrapped around the bone marrow, tugging him along even now. You barely even knew how to be a person, let alone help him now. It hurt to watch but you were frozen, locked in this moment.

  
Bazz B was by your side immediately as if he somehow swallowed his anger, managed to forgive in the time it took a second to pass, a lung to collapse.

  
“You goddamn idiot,” he growled and heaved Askin up against himself, “Why the fuck are you still loyal to Yhwach? Why the fuck don’t you just-”

  
The spasms didn’t stop and Bazz B had to let go, turned to you for help as if this was something that could be so easily fixed.

  
“We can’t let him die,” he said, “Any bright ideas?”

  
You nodded. You knew how to make this right again. Pantera did too and she shuddered at the thought, remembered the bile rising in your throat.

  
“I don’t want to do this,” you said to no one in particular, reaching out with shaking fingers. _I never wanted this to happen_.

  
Suddenly you could move, as if your body only allowed you to show that violence others expected of you. You hated it. You had gone beyond this, so far beyond, you were not restricted to-

  
Askin gasped as your claw pierced the skin of his neck, ripped it open like the zipper of a jacket. You saw the veins in his eyes as they widened. The ones on his throat spit blood instead.

  
Your metal hand didn’t feel anything.

  
It was nothing but a visceral slash, your fingers digging inside his flesh until you became familiar with the shape of his spine. But there was movement, as well, apart from his frantic heartbeat and the throat constricting around nothing at all.

  
Askin couldn’t scream- what left his throat were inhuman gargling noises; choking, fear, _cut off_.

  
The leeches burst between your fingertips and you dropped their dripping remains on the ground once more. One after the other, torn from their safe place between bones. They struggled against your grip, slick insect skin smearing red streaks all over your hands. Even as you took hold of them they wanted to destroy, disrupt, defile all that lay before them.

  
You remembered what it had felt like for you and hesitated, bit your tongue in an attempt to keep down your voice. The infection had never managed to reach quite so deep for you, had only tried to kill you in those last seconds.

  
“Askin,” you said and felt like saying his name was too much already, “Hey, look at me.”

  
It felt appropriate to stain your metal fingers with blood while your other hand cradled the side of his face, kept him in place. Askin shook so much you imagined it rattled your bones, too. His skin was cold, so cold, nothing like it used to be. The sting in your chest was a claw, a maelstrom, a nightmare.

  
His mouth fell open and you almost expected him to make a clever comment but he just stared at you like he really didn’t know you. So close to death. Screaming soundlessly.

  
His eyes looked dead to you.

  
“They’ll kill you if I don’t do this,” you told him with an edge of desperation, looking at Bazz B who seemed close to fainting.

  
Askin choked as you tore out his vocal cords, the leeches below, everything that no longer functioned.

  
“Still with me?” you asked him and received no answer. In spite of all you did he was alive with his spine shining at you, with the maw of the wound he had instead of a throat gaping. Askin was panicking but staying still, eyes wide like a deer’s.

  
One time between worlds he had told you about his perpetual fake calm demeanor, about the shaking in his hands and the restlessness. It was a deep-seated anxiety- you had listened then and remembered it now.

  
You wanted to say something to make this better, even now, even more foolish than the hope he would change his mind. What could you say, though, while simultaneously tearing him apart?

  
He struggled as you plunged your hand in his chest; Bazz B held him down with no difficulty. Askin convulsed as you cleaved open his rib cage- a desperate attempt to get away with his throat in tatters, a futile call for help.

  
“We gotta do this,” Bazz B said in your stead, “It sucks, I know, but there’s no other way-”

  
Evisceration felt worse, probably, with nothing but blunt fingernails digging into the flesh, with your faded strength just barely tearing the skin. It ripped like paper would, uneven with edges flayed like the antennae of an insect.

  
During that short summer you saw books of human insides, of their organs and the structures that kept them together. They were here, too, spread out in front of you within the carcass of a Quincy.

 

Fresh wounds and blood smelled sharp and clear, heavy and coveting. Your hands shuddered against the pulse of a festering heart.

  
Askin’s eyes rolled back in his head as you removed all that was dead inside of him. Ribs broke so easily, smashed into small pieces, merging with the mush of his insides. He wanted to crawl away from this, from you, but Bazz B’s grip was stronger than one weak and dying will.

  
Askin could twist and turn, shiver and tremble- but he could not get away. Not with you tugging on his veins, on the bones, on the leeches embedded deeply in his organs. They writhed just like him, fleeing deeper into the flesh. There were so, so many of them.

  
Askin wheezed helplessly until you took his lungs, torn and tattered.

  
He was quiet as you took the rest, shuddered through it, gave up struggling soon enough. You took his heart, too, and wasn’t there a metaphor in there somewhere. The leeches in it pulsed as you crushed it in your palm.

  
A mechanical man, an empty casket. There was barely anything left- the leeches had been thorough. He was still alive, still looked at you. He was scared out of his mind, choked on the blood gushing out from deep inside him, welling up in his throat.

  
Askin’s soul was right there too, so close. One swipe of your new claw and you could have crushed it, devoured it, snuffed out its light like a candle. It was the last thing you wanted to do.

  
You averted your eyes and fixed them on the bloody mess at your side; the organs and strips of flesh, the shapeless clumps. A cero later they were gone entirely.

  
Bazz B looked like he was ready to pass out, mirroring the expression you were sure showed on your own face. It was too much, too much, too much.

  
Askin tried to speak and the lower half of his face was black with blood and stomach acid. Not a sound came out. Quiet for the first time since you met him; quivering like a small, frightened animal. The smell of blood was pungent. All three of you were drenched with it as if this was a ritual, a sacrifice to an ancient malevolent deity.

  
You let go of him then, finally, your fingers sliding across his cheek to leave bloody trails.

Askin’s eyelids fluttered, still in tact even with the red of his torso ripped open. You watched the purple of his iris contrast with the blood sprayed all over him, the delicacy of the fear on his features compared to the open maw of his chest. His ribs looked like wings, too, bent and broken and blood-red.

  
You met his eyes only for a brief moment.

  
There was no way to tell what he was thinking. Your head was empty, too, filled only with these images that would never go away. You stumbled. You shook. You thought of nothing and no one in the world.

  
Then you wiped your hands on your ruined jacket. Red handprints on white cloth. No matter how much you tried to get rid of it the blood only smeared on your skin. It sickened you to the stomach.

  
“What about it?” you asked Askin again as if you still hadn’t learned your lesson after all this time, with a hope in your head that hurt, “Killing the Soul King again?”

  
Your voice shook so much you could barely understand yourself.

  
He stared at you, observed, blinked through the shock. A pound of flesh ripped straight from his throat, another from the chest. Without Bazz B’s help he would have collapsed again.

  
“Might not be the best timing for this,” you muttered, clearing your throat, “But we could use your help.”

  
Askin looked like he wanted to say something, but who could with no vocal chords or lungs? There was blood, so much blood. Your hands were warm with it.

  
He didn’t react, only looked at you with fear and confusion and no recognition at all. Another chapter closed, the end of a story. No time for _why_.

  
It hurt so much more than you feared it would.

  
“Go ahead then,” Bazz B urged you on, “You don’t want to keep them waiting, the Soul King and his band of idiots.”

  
“You’re not coming?”

  
“Not anymore,” he growled and gestured at Askin who was barely conscious and slipped further away every second, “Someone’s gotta keep him and the rest of the Sternritter here contained, right? Can’t let them in there and can’t let them die if they wanna power up their king.”

  
“So you’ll stay?”

  
“Who else’s gonna?” Bazz B replied and snorted, “I know their abilities, I’ll be fine.”

  
“That wasn’t the plan.”

  
“Well, the plan fucking changed!” he snapped.

  
He was shaking, too, jittery and his nerves flayed.

  
“Good luck, anyway,” you said and hoped it would matter, “Don’t fuck it up, Quincy.”

  
Bazz B got what you meant if his weak grin was any indication. The blood trailing down his forearms hadn’t dried yet.

 

* * *

 

 

_At some point you saw him at least three times a week, spent more time with him than you ever would have expected. Askin was strange, so strange, in his mannerisms and sense of humor, but you were drawn to that- you made him part of your ritual, part of what stabilized the world._

  
_“I’m aromantic,” he told you early on, “Just in case you are afraid of what I expect from you. I don’t fall in love with people.”_

  
_“So you’re just so damn bored you wanna hang out with a Hollow?”_

  
_“Maybe. Perhaps it helps me come to terms with the twisted parts of my wicked soul, destined for eternal damnation.”_

  
_He laughed as he saw your expression, assured you immediately that he was joking and such dramatics were not part of his emotional repertoire._

  
_“I like you. You’re good company,” was what he told you, “Is that so difficult to believe? I mean, I could ask you if you are ‘so damn bored you wanna hang out with a Quincy’, as well.”_

  
_Trust was a strange thing, especially when given to a Quincy. Pantera told you that it was Kurosaki’s influence that made you weak and gullible but you knew it was more than that. Kurosaki was part of it, had contributed to the new hesitance in your head when it came to killing your targets. However, the others were just as much part of it- Orihime and Sado and all those who had not looked down on you when it counted._

  
_Askin didn’ t either, never did. So you trusted him and listened and in the end you felt more betrayed than you thought you could. He trampled on it, that rare trust you gifted him, watched on as you were tortured out in the desert day after day._

  
_Or so you thought, for the longest time._

 

* * *

 

 

Abarai was looking out into the desert and you wondered if it was his first time to see it properly- it had to be if you remembered his story correctly.

  
“So this is all that’s left, huh?” he said but didn’t turn to face you.

  
“Looks like it.”

  
“And you’ve been out here all this time?”

  
“About three years now.”

  
“Huh,” he said quietly, “ _Three years_.”

  
The last time you had seen him before you awoke in the wasteland had been in Soul Society- a regular status report on a Hollow attack in the human world. Abarai had been there, strangely happy, jovial to the point you wondered if he forgot who Aizen and his Espada were. Perhaps there was still the sting of indignity, too, of being underestimated and not taken seriously. You were past that now.

  
Abarai was not a liar, he wouldn’t pretend to like you if it was not the truth.

  
“I feel like I am gonna jinx it,” he said then, “Y’know, by saying I enjoy this bit of peace we have right now.”

  
You wondered now if he blamed himself for what happened. He was idiotic and caring enough to, only slightly less so than the humans who had gotten to you.

  
“Do you know anything about the others?” he asked you on top of Las Noches with the wasteland before him.

  
It dried your mouth and accelerated your heartbeat. There were a great many things to tell him but your mind was in shambles. Drenched in blood you had no words for him, no strength to tell him immediately how all his friends were dead and gone.

  
“Who?” you asked with a throat so scratchy it tasted like metal.

  
“Rukia, Ichigo, Chad, Orihime- fuck, what do I know, Ishida, maybe?”

  
All names you heard before, scarcely since you found yourself alone in the desert. Your head was spinning.

  
Abarai looked at you so expectantly you felt bad for answering him, just a little. So much hope left in him, so much less bitterness. It reminded you of how it had been before, with your mind still in Hueco Mundo. The Soul King’s palace seemed so far away now.

  
“One of the Quincy said Ishida was alive,” you said, “The rest of ‘em didn’t make it.”

  
The look on his face told you that he had known that, at least subconsciously. It was not like you could look at the state of this world and _not_ know there was something wrong. Assuming the worst was just one step away.

  
“You watched them die?” Abarai asked, picking at the hem of his cloak, “You are absolutely sure-”

  
“Yeah. I saw it.”

  
He looked up at you with an expression you would expect from a kicked puppy. Then, anger came.

  
“How can you just say that?” he shouted and you saw the trembling in his arms as if it itched beneath his skin to go and grab you, “How can you be so fucking calm?”

  
You let him yell, waited.

  
Luppi had always made sure you were provoked out of your silence, into his claws. This was nothing like it, none of the fearful patience.

  
Abarai punched your shoulder, grabbed hold of your jacket with his free hand. You looked down on your clothes, saw the blood where it glued the fabric to your skin. Nothing felt real.

  
“How can you just-” Abarai began. His voice faltered, died out. With his head hung low he looked more defeated than you ever expected him to allow you to see.

  
“How can I just _what_?” you asked in return, watching his hands clench around the shabby hem of your jacket.

  
Abarai stayed still. A moment passed, just the brief period of time his anger needed to quiet down. A flash of heat was all it was for him, that spark that died quickly.

  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “You’re not the one I should be mad at, huh? They were your friends, too.”

  
A few years ago, before all this and all it ruined, you would have punched him. There were words on the tip of your tongue even now, hateful words and all that which you hid beneath anger.

  
“It’s a secondary emotion,” Rukia told you once, as if you were an open book for her to read, “It’s not there to help. It only ends up hurting you.”

  
“It’s whatever,” you said to Abarai, “It’s been three damn years, ‘m not gonna burst into tears every fucking time I tell someone.”

  
Of course not; but there was that sinking feeling in your gut, that phantom pain and the doubts growing faster than your wounds healed. Whenever your thought strayed too close to the memory of all those dead people you stopped yourself. Cloud it all in vagueness, never ruin the masquerade. The wasteland was watching and so was its king.

  
“So you were with them when they died?” Abarai asked you and it ran a shiver down your spine. Memories, sweet memories.

  
“Nothing I could’ve done,” you lied, “I was there and saw it all.”

 

* * *

 

 

_The sky was burning. You saw nothing, nothing at all._

 

* * *

 

 

With your head still reeling you made your way back to the rest of your newfound allies- Harribel looked as if she had never been injured, Nel waved at you from afar. It was good to see them alive, if only for a second.

  
It was the kind of day where everything went wrong- not that there had been many others days out here in the wasteland. As it were, your brief moment of respite was disturbed by something so much worse than the arrival of a new enemy.

  
Las Noches’ surface layer shattered without a warning; where there had been ground supporting you before was only empty air. Normally you could have caught yourself, used spiritual power to break your fall.

  
There was a pull from below, a vortex sucking you in.

  
Above was the sky, below just a dark void where there should be prison camps. It didn’t work like that anymore- space inside the wasteland was distorted, just like light was scarce and the shadows watched you from the desert without eyes.

  
All the players arrived, all the pieces assembled- and you wondered if this wasn’t a bit too convenient, all of you hauled up in one place.

  
Then you fell.

  
Then you _fell_ \- something that you had come to expect at the beginning of a story rather than at its end. Because surely, this had to be where you finally died and didn't make it back up to the surface, clawing and spitting until whoever dared to force you down was dead and gone. Aizen, Yhwach, Luppi. The Soul King was just another name on a list.

  
You thought of Kurosaki then, inexplicably, as if somehow you had begun to believe Harribel's suspicion. The true dramatic irony, turning the savior of the world into the one ushering it into a dreary future. There was no need to sugarcoat it- the wasteland was absolute and utter _shit_. You hated it with the stubbornness of a child, shoving and tugging at it until it went away. It never did.

  
Pantera wanted you to abandon it all, to sprout wings and take off into the sky until you saw the sun again. _Fly closer_ , she would tell you, _It won't burn you to ash_. You still knew what it looked like, Arrancar burning like cinder. The Vandenreich, Soul Society- you didn't care who it was. Pantera wanted them all dead and so did you. With exceptions, now, the few you had decided to trust.

  
You thought of Orihime as you fell, of how you missed her.

  
Of Sado, who was just as dead.

  
A single burst of flame and suddenly you had no words for them anymore. No one prepared you for how much it would hurt.

  
You thought of Askin who you trusted and who betrayed you; who thought there was something there to fight for with a nameless, soulless king. You were angry. You were hurt. It stung in all your wounds that you had ever trusted him. You saved his life because there was an inkling of doubt in you that the Soul King had forced Askin's hand, his entire being into this. You had to doubt if control was absolution. Your spirit was vengeful, but all you saw now was the color of his blood all over your hands.

  
Harribel was out there talking about forgiveness, about knowing what to accept and what not to. You didn't know. You never did. _Hollow, hollow_. No one had taught you how to be anything else out here.

  
But Harribel was the queen and somehow that meant something in all the jumble, more than numbers had or the brand on your neck. She didn't have to injure you to ensure your loyalty.

  
Nel was a friend. You thought of her and came up with nothing else- a path so well-trodden that a feeling was all you needed to describe it to yourself. Looking out for her, letting her look out for you in return.

  
Rukia Kuchiki, Renji Abarai, Shinji Hirako- the list went on and on and it was so strange, so _strange_ , to curl up during a fall and regret ever having woken up that day the world ended.

  
It could all be like before, the childish, naive part of you whispered; if only you hadn't been there to see it would not have been real. A philosophic thought. You wanted to spit on it.

  
Because fuck tragedy and learning from it, fuck drama and being hurt. There was nothing humbling about torture, nothing pretty about abuse and getting away from it.

  
You wanted out; safety, warmth, whatever the fuck wasn’t this.

  
And your fall ended.

 

* * *

 


	38. a ribbon for a cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil' note: My post-canon Grimmjow is chubby. It will be mentioned more in the future but there's a reference to it in here so if you go "does this mean-" then yes, yes it does. In the wasteland he is looking starved because hey, 3 years of this shit do that to a person but yeah. Y'know. A thing I'd like to mention, is all.
> 
> Warnings in this for abuse talk and abuse mention, for references to the last chapter, some blood. A bit of confusion, probably, too. Shit's gonna get a bit more vague again from here on out, I think. Whoa boy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up with your mouth full of sand was not the most pleasant surprise. Then again, you thought dryly, compared to the rest of the rude awakenings you had had in the wasteland this was nothing.

  
So you spat out the sand and brushed it off your clothes as best as you could.

  
It felt like a beginning again, like the time you first awoke in a desert with claws as sharp as needles and your heart pumping strong. The world around you was still the wasteland, though, nothing like Hueco Mundo or any other realm you had been to.

All of them combined could not have created this.

  
There was the urge again; the urge to lay down and sleep all this away, close your eyes and wait for the end of the world to come. It conflicted so drastically with who you were, what you were. The wish to die was not programmed into a Hollow’s head, not if you spent all your time avoiding death.

  
_I can’t have death for myself._

  
You wondered if it would be the same for you, if the Soul King decided when your story ended and how. You wondered if the Soul King was Ichigo, trying so desperately to fix things but only creating this.

  
There was no satisfactory answer and you sighed with the mangled side of your head pressed to the soft sand. Just a moment, a moment longer-

  
“Oh no, is he dead?” you heard someone say.

  
You weren’t sure what it was that made you laugh about it- maybe the morbidness of it all, the fact that you had been teetering on the brink of death and exhaustion so long that it seemed trivial to point it out now. So you laughed, although it sounded more like sputtering coughs spat out onto the desert’s surface.

  
“Oh no, he isn’t dead,” Candice said and came into view upside down, leaning over you, “Good morning, bluebell.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“You would probably have been very irritated by Candice,” Askin told you, “Possibly because you are similar.”_

  
_“What’s that supposed to mean?”_

  
_“Oh, maybe you’ll see. It was not meant as an insult, though, I can tell you as much. No need to start throwing punches.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Candice didn’t punch you, either.

  
“Before you ask,” she said, “I have no damn clue where we are. There’s a lot of sand but that’s about everything I figured out so far.”

  
Then she grabbed you around the waist and dragged you up on your feet before you could so much as protest. You were not very surprised by her strength, you had seen her kick As Nodt through one of Las Noches’ pillars just before your fall. Nel used to do this, hug you around the waist and squeeze your softened sides out there in the human world.

  
“Also you’re the only one I found so far,” Candice explained to you, gritting her teeth, “Aside from Bambi, I mean. We were together when we fell.”

  
“What happened, anyway?”

  
“No idea. As soon as we’ve met up with Bambi we can brainstorm this crap and come up with a plan. I’m more of a ‘punching my way into things’ kinda gal, you know?”

  
You did know, but you didn’t feel the need to point that out to her.

  
The tips of her wavy hair tickled your neck and side. Even if the hold she had on you was very practical you were acutely aware of the fact that she was touching you. It evoked a mixture of feelings in you- from a strange tinge of reassurance to absolute confusion.

  
“Why the hell do you care?” you asked, “Why are you even helping me?”

  
“Well, we’re a team now, aren’t we?”

  
It was a very confident reply, her eyes wide and eyebrows arched as if you were the weird one by doubting her intentions. You weren’t prepared for her type of straight-forward behavior, so different from the humans’ kindness and the Arrancars’ guarded respect.

  
Candice patted your side where she had placed your hand to steady you.

  
“Look, I don’t know what kinda loyalty code you got going on,” she said, “But we’re cool in my book. We punch some dickbags together, we’re immediately friends. The whole drama stuff isn’t for us.”

  
“Us?”

  
“Bambi and me. We talked about this way back when your cool queen wanted to let me in on the deal to work together and all. I didn’t need some grand speech about morals to make up my mind.”

  
It made you laugh, weirdly enough. Your mood was lightened by the fact that everything went to shit- with blood sprayed all over your front and your arm made from anything but flesh. As a whole your situation did not seem much better than when you arrived in the wasteland for the first time; except now it started to feel like an entirely different world.

  
Unlike the times Luppi pressed your face to the sand and ripped apart all he hated about you there were people on your side now. Trusting them or not was just a matter of naivety and you found Candice was right; if you spent more time doubting them than getting things done the world would never end.

  
“Sounds like an okay plan to me,” you told her and straightened your back, “Got no time to think about betrayal, huh?”

  
Candice nodded sharply.

  
“Exactly!”

  
The two of you dragged your feet over the never-ending array of dunes, one following closely after the other until the horizon brought an end to them. It felt repetitive to stare at the line between murky sky and light sand, seeing it move, seeing it bend with every last of your steps.

  
It was warmer here than it had ever been in the wasteland- because you still instinctively knew that something changed about the world when you fell, as if it all turned on its axis around you.

  
You thought of winter for the first time in forever, the freezing cold and an endless mass of snow falling from the sky. You couldn’t remember what it looked or smelled like; you imagined it on the back of your eyelids, the surface of your brain. Glimpses of something your summer had not allowed you to see.

  
“So what’s your angle? What do you want from all this?” you asked Candice who smelled like burned hair and had a reiatsu as unstable as a thundercloud.

  
“I want a bunch of dogs,” she answered without a hitch.

  
“Huh?”

  
“I know, maybe ‘a bunch’ is not specific enough,” she said, “I just want a lot of dogs, though. Huge fluffy monster dogs that can topple you without even trying.”

  
More laughter bubbled up inside you and you wondered if you had finally lost it entirely- maybe all that happened had been too much and cracked your skull right open, crippled the brain beneath.

  
Candice laughed with you and somehow it made sense then, making the best out of something so desperately confusing, even if rationality called for different measures.

  
The knuckles of your metal hand did not crack as you spread your fingers, pulled them into a tight fist, unclenched it again. Its gears and inner workings were silent.

  
“I really do want dogs though,” Candice said and snickered, “Once we get out of here.”

  
“That’s really fucking optimistic.”

  
“Yeah, I got no time to be gloomy. I’ll leave that to people who have plans that are more complicated than ‘getting out of this alive to adopt many dogs’.”

  
She held onto you as you laughed and you could tell that was what she had tried to achieve in the first place; it didn’t make sense to you why she wanted you to laugh at all.

  
Candice snorted and patted your back.

  
"It's good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor yet," she said and took another careful step, dragging you along, "I've seen a lot of that around these parts lately."

  
"In the Sternritter?"

  
"Everywhere. Y'know, I talked to your awesome queen about that just before all this shit happened, about how people like me and that other friend of yours who haven't been here for long probably have a really different outlook on life."

  
It fascinated you how easily she respected Harribel- somehow you had kept on believing all of their troops were as zealous about their hatred as their leader, spitting on Hollows and ripping them apart. After all you had seen some of their officials during their rallies. Cutting, tearing, slicing off.

  
Then again, you mused and listened to Pantera's bitter denial, the one who had hurt you the most in this wasteland was not a Quincy.

  
Some moments out here were devoid of Luppi's influence, of the scars he left on you. More often than not you felt his touch on your temple; then his fingers on the skin above the brand, pressing down where the blood slept beneath your skin.

  
"You getting along okay with the Arrancar here, huh?" you asked, distracting yourself.

  
Candice shrugged and it was the first time you looked her in the eyes since you left her and Bambietta to figure their trauma out by themselves- she was dead tired, the spark of her electricity only a shadow of what it had been up on Las Noches' roof.

  
"I don't mind you Hollows," she said, "Never really did. I don't think there were many among us who actually considered you abominations."

  
"Sure doesn't sound like it when your people have their weird propaganda shit going on down in the outskirts."

  
"Funny thing about those is that I got nothing to do with them. Sounds like a shit excuse but honestly, it isn't like any administration actually works in this piece of crap desert. Some do what they wanna do, others just think they're on a holy mission."  
"And you?"

  
"I like to think of myself as more of a rebel, y'know? I'll storm the damn barricades and fuck up whoever's in charge."

  
It reminded you of what Nel had said, about following you into the depth of the Soul King's world to end all this. You were not arrogant enough to assume it was the same for the Quincy- this wasn't a story of you as a lone hero fighting a battle by yourself. For as long as you had believed that you had continued to lose out here; not talking didn't solve anything, not trusting only played into Luppi's hands. Orihime would be so proud of you for thinking this way- and you smiled just remembering her, remembering something good from before.

  
"You sound like Nel," was what you said out loud, "All idealistic and strong and stuff."

  
"Is that your sister?" Candice asked, "She is really cute. I love the horns so much."

  
"She's not my sister."

  
"Well, that's your loss. She's adorable. We actually had the occasional talk before all this happened, just a few nice conversations here and there. I think she was coming around."

  
"She doesn't do relationships."

  
"Oh man," Candice said and slapped her leg, "Too bad. Such a priority right now, those romantic relationships."

  
It made you laugh again and your chest felt a little lighter, a little less like you just eviscerated someone you thought of as a friend and more and then fell as the world cracked beneath your feet.

  
"No but in all seriousness," Candice continued and helped you up without a comment as your knees buckled, "That whole racist bullshit? I don't know if anyone really bought that back then. We were fucking scared of Yhwach or had nowhere else to be or wanted revenge. I don't know if you can relate but his empire was never much of a 'united we stand' kinda thing."

  
It sounded like an excuse- but you understood, deeply, were forcably reminded of Aizen who pushed you to the ground, Aizen who made sure you trusted no one in your midst. It was not your job to understand the Sternritter or forgive them for what they did to some of the worlds but you knew better than to keep a war alive that had ended all those years ago. Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, the Wahrwelt- they were all gone now, with nothing left but those very few people out here in a world where there was no sun and a no man's sky.

  
"I heard that before," was what you told Candice and Pantera warned you not to say too much, "That it was fear keeping you there."

  
"Nakk Le Vaar told you that, didn't he?"

  
No judgment, only curiosity.

  
You frowned.

  
"How'd you guess?"

  
"Because Bazz wouldn't talk like that," she replied, "Bazz never really wanted to keep us all apart just for the sake of a war, he wanted his revenge on Yhwach and loyalty from a couple others. Doesn't mean he didn't go nuts as soon as we invaded but yeah, I don't see him talking about fear. Bambi always says he is too damn honest for his own good. Cares too much, cares too deeply. That sorta stuff."

  
"So that's why you guessed it wasn't him."

  
"See, I'm not dumb," Candice replied and poked your side, "And your friends aren't, either. We all figured some of the rumors were true and you actually did work with Nakk Le Vaar before all this. Or, y’know, if I know anything about him then it was probably more than that. It's fine, really, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

  
"So you're not friends."

  
"Nah, never were. Acquaintances, maybe. Bambi and him were really close before, but I wouldn't mention him around her now. She doesn't always seem like it but when she feels betrayed she will hold grudges for all eternity."

  
"Noted."

  
It did not come as a surprise that there were more similarities between you and them than you had thought; because grudges were good, grudges were kind and kept that anger burning. It flickered sometimes, threatening to go out, but it never had, not really.

  
“We’re almost there,” Candice told you and grunted as you swayed, “Fuck, you’re almost as drained as me, we’ll have to get some rest on the double or this piece of ass Soul King is staying on his lame-ass throne forever.”

  
The two of you laughed as if you were kids, snorting while you dragged each other closer to what you assumed was their new and improved secret hideout. By now you weren’t necessarily the only one needing support- it was a mutual effort, tugging the other along with all the strength there was left.

  
Pantera didn’t like what you did; but she stayed quiet now, thinking, as if she was beginning to see where your thoughts wandered with all the world against you.

  
Equals, allies, friends. Things you learned before; things you wanted to learn about again.

  
Yeah, you thought, Orihime and her pack of strange humans would be proud of this.

 

* * *

 

 

_“An Arrancar?” Bambietta asked you and lifted her eyebrows, “What would I want with one of you?”_

  
_“Thought you could use some assistance around here. Have your own fracción.”_

  
_“Then why are you so desperate to get rid of them, huh? Why do you even care if some Hollow out there makes it or not?”_

  
_Her question was warranted and you knew that you had to deliver if you wanted a deal with her._

  
_Bambietta Basterbine was the most destructive out of all the Sternritter who had crossed paths with you in the wasteland. Within the radius of her power there was little left unscathed- only if she wanted it to be._

  
_However, she was also the most reasonable and the one who came down from their fortress to talk to you commoners._

  
_“I’m not too big on the whole status deal,” she told you and shrugged, “Man, what for? We’re all fucked out here. So don’t expect any torture from me, I’ll be fine without it. You too, I bet.”_

  
_She should have been the first hint that there was something amiss within the Quincy’s legion; a hint that such a thing, such a legion, was not at all what existed._

  
_But the Soul King knew how to keep up pretenses- how to make a brittle construct of a society seem functional or oppressing, how to instill so much fear in the hearts of his disciples that they could not move without his permission._

  
_“I don’t know who it is,” Bambietta told you once, “The Soul King, I mean. I’m not sure if anyone really knows. It should be Yhwach, right? That would make sense.”_

  
_You were scared it wouldn’t be. Scared it would be Kurosaki looking back at you from some sort of pale throne, the kind you left behind for a promise of something else._

  
_“It gets better with time,” Bambietta told you as she helped you up after one of Luppi’s punishments out in the desert, “Or rather, you get used to it. ‘m not saying that’s a good thing. ‘m saying there is a time to fight back and a time when you will be so hurt you can’t even lift a finger anymore.”_

  
_You didn’t listen to her because you still had some fight in you, because you so arrogantly thought Luppi would never subdue you or break your spirit. You were stuck with him now, forever. Bambietta had understood that from the start- it took one to know one._

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Bambi, we’re back!” Candice called out, “Look who came to pay us a visit!”

  
She gave you another pat on the back and then yawned so loudly it rang in your ears.

  
“Welcome to our humble abode. It’s really fucking humble and not technically ours but man, who cares at this point. Who in the hell even cares.”

  
The place she had dragged the two of you was just the remains of a small building- the only visible structure among the dunes you had stumbled across on your way. Its walls were dusty and the color peeled off but you still saw lines edged into parts of the gray stone. Some of them resembled claw marks, others fingernails. A select few could have been lines to tell the time, one for each day. You didn’t dare count.

  
Bambietta looked up at you from her spot on the ground, back ramrod straight and hands folded in her lap. Unlike before she seemed responsive, at least, not so lost in a traumatic memory she had trouble seeing anything beyond it.

  
“Hey,” she said and smiled a little, “Good to know we’re not the only ones.”

  
“Aw, don’t be like that,” Candice teased her and leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, “I am great company and you know it.”

  
The gesture of affection was not practiced and clumsier than you expected from her- she was so confident about everything else, you wondered what it was about this that had her on edge.

  
Nel used to greet people like this, too- a kiss on the cheek, a quick hug. You saw her do it with Orihime first, during one of those times she visited Hueco Mundo. It always struck you as strange to watch others form connections beyond you. It was how it had to be- because they all had their own agencies, their own connections spreading out around them like a web.

  
“An egocentric worldview shifting to whatever this is won’t do you any good,” Pantera reminded you, “Focus on yourself.”

  
Perhaps, you thought, perhaps there was a middle ground for all this, something that was not absolute abandon or complete isolation.

  
“Glad you made it, to be honest,” Bambietta told you as you sat down, “Although you look about as exhausted as I feel.”

  
“It’s fucking weird.”

  
“No complaints there,” she replied, “It’s like this entire area is just draining us.”

  
There were two things that immediately came to your mind. One was, of course, the Deathdealing- but you had seen with your own eyes how incapable of using his power Askin had been before. His blood was still drying on your skin.

  
“Did you kill Nakk Le Vaar?” Bambietta asked you, evidently coming to a similar conclusion, “This kinda feels like his power.”

  
“Didn’t kill him,” you said and saw their eyes roam the bloody front of your jacket, the red beneath your fingernails, “But he was unconscious when I left.”

  
“Doesn’t mean he can’t do this. He likes to play dead.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Bambietta and I were friends,” Askin told you, “Best friends, even, as far as I was concerned. Do you know what happened to her?”_

  
_“No idea.”_

  
_“I hope she made it out,” was his reply, without irony, “Even if we can’t meet again.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I took out most of his organs,” you said without a hitch, “There’s no way he can control this large of an area like that.”

  
Bambietta recoiled just a little too quickly to hide it.

  
There was the other thing, though, the other possible explanation.

  
“That Bazz B guy took me to a weird pocket dimension space before,” you told them, “The feeling of that was similar to this right here.”

  
The buzzing in your ears, the light-headed feeling. Back then you had been weaker. Now there was metal stuck in your arm, dead matter connected to your flesh. It didn’t hurt but that disturbed you- with three years of phantom pain behind you the idea of being okay only slowly crept into your head.

  
Candice rubbed her chin.

  
“Hm,” she said in a very exaggerated manner, “So what you’re saying is that this place really isn’t the same world, huh?”

  
“I think it’s just a deeper layer,” Bambietta added, “I always imagined the Soul King’s lair being folded into the heart of Las Noches. Just, y’know, hidden beneath many layers of worlds.”

  
You knew there was more inside of Las Noches than the prison camps. The logistics of it were a mystery to you but if Bazz B could create such a space between worlds, who was to say Yhwach couldn’t?

  
A sliver of hope. It had to be the Quincy emperor.

  
“All I remember from before we fell was capturing Pernida and Lille,” Candice mused, “Could one of them have opened this up?”

  
“Can you reverse it?” you asked, “That’s all that matters.”

  
They looked at each other briefly, a hasty nonverbal conversation you couldn’t follow.

  
“This whole area weakens us,” Bambietta sighed after a moment, “I don’t think either of us could open a rift right now.”

  
“Well,” Candice picked up the thought, “If this was like it used to be in the Silbern-”

  
You listened to the two of them as they debated what did or didn’t happen, who could or couldn’t be involved. It was all guesswork; there was sand burning on your tongue and the slippery surface of your blood-soaked skin.

  
It reminded you of one of those many days you spent in the company of Kurosaki’s sisters, hearing their stories one after another.

  
What started in Hueco Mundo after the invasion of the Quincy had only developed in the years after- you learned how to listen. Such a simple concept. A useless one, too, according to Pantera.

  
“Hey bluebell, you still with us?” Candice asked you and waved her hand in front of your eyes, “Man, with all the blood on you it’s kind of concerning to see you space out like that.”

  
You scowled at her.

  
”You should worry more about what the hell happened in your little Quincy palace up there,” you said, “And why the Soul King decided all of you can die for his cause all off a sudden.”

  
“The elites didn’t talk to us about anything,” Candice explained with a shrug, “I mean, at least before all this you could tease them, but since we got here it has been really different.”

  
“I was mostly hanging out alone up there,” Bambietta continued, “Y’know, since Nakk Le Vaar decided to be a stuck-up prick.”

  
“And now he’s on last name basis because we’re mad at him.”

  
Candice’s offended tone of voice made you grin.

  
“Yep,” Bambietta agreed and her lips twitched, “Y’know, when Liltotto and Meni were still around it wasn’t so bad but-”

  
She broke off. It was easy to fill in the blanks of what happened- the Quincy died too, out here, even those hiding away in their borrowed fortress.

  
“So what you’re saying is you got no clue if any of the three we supposedly capture are gonna talk,” you said, changing the subject. Dead friends were not a topic either of you needed right now. Lost between worlds you felt a little lonelier already.

  
“I know Bazz wants out,” Candice mused and scratched her head, “And so do we, obviously. But honestly, the Schutzstaffel hasn’t come down to interact with us in ages. Hell, that was the first time I’ve seen Pernida in months.”

  
“We were there for supervision, but those four had a different kinda job. You heard of it, haven’t you?”

  
Bambietta sounded serious. She drew lines into the sand with her fingers, evened out circular shapes and began anew.

  
“They tortured, imprisoned and executed,” you answered, “Or that’s what people say, at least.”

  
The two watched you closely as if they expected you to continue; but you didn’t know what else to add. Most of your knowledge was based on rumors passed around in the prison camps, those few times that Nel came down from the top of the fortress shuddering with the memory of what she had witnessed.

  
“But you said something earlier when we were fighting,” Bambietta reminded you, “Something about them being controlled. If that’s true-”

  
“It was just a theory,” you interrupted, “We can’t know that shit for sure. I just noticed their movements were weird as hell and jumped to conclusions.”

  
“It would explain a lot, though.”

  
Candice sounded almost excited, drumming her fingers on her knees as she continued.

  
“Starting with why they separated us lower-ranked people from those few who were used for their powers. Y’know, to avoid suspicion?”

  
“And also it would explain why they follow the Soul King even if this world is absolute shit,” Bambietta said, “If that’s true I got a bit of apologizing to do.”

  
You knew they were excited by the prospect- because suddenly there was that simple explanation that would also give a name to the motivations of all those people they felt betrayed them. It would explain it to you, too- why Askin suddenly decided your side wasn’t worth the trouble despite all that happened.

  
“But you know that’s too good to be true,” Pantera whispered and curled up around you, so close her soul blanketed yours, “You know it has never been that easy.”

 

* * *

 


	39. as soft as thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished this monster yesterday so this is the celebratory chapter, what an occasion, I would like to thank myself, first of all-
> 
> This chapter needs a warning for abuse and abuse mention again, a really bad and not nice joke, panic attacks and a bit of blood.

* * *

 

 

Their voices woke you up in the middle of what you thought was ‘night’.

  
“If they were controlled-” Bambietta said and her voice trembled, “You know, Pernida and As Nodt and those others-”

  
“Bambi no,” Candice interrupted her, “That’s not-”

  
“You don’t know that!”

  
For such a tiny person Bambietta was incredibly loud if she wanted to be, resolute and headstrong.

  
“You don’t know if it wasn’t the same for her!” she yelled, “I don’t care what you say, I’ll have to find out. I won’t go anywhere before I know for sure.”

  
Somehow it made sense to you; of course you had no idea who they were talking about, even if you had heard about the ranks of the Quincy that didn’t mean you knew any of the ones you never met.

  
But you remembered seeing Bambietta in the desert for the first time- how her words resonated with you because she felt what Luppi forced you to feel.

  
“Let’s go then,” you growled at them, “If it’s so damn important. Better than wasting away here.”

  
“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Candice snapped immediately, narrowing her eyes. For a second the tension was so palpable you were sure you would have to fight her; if only to prove a point, if only to end up losing. Luppi’s creeping touch never quite vanished from your skin.

  
“Please,” Bambietta said. Her voice was quiet now, directed only at her friend.

  
“Bambi-”

  
“ _Please_. I know you can’t understand but this is important to me.”

  
Candice grimaced and pressed her crossed arms so tightly against her chest that you thought she wanted to crush her own rib cage. The beat of her heart, hectic and strong. Too fast for a cage.

  
“You don’t need my permission,” she said, biting her lip, looking down.

  
”I know,” Bambietta replied, so much gentler and with a small smile, “But I would like your company, y’know. I want you there with me.”

  
It felt like a moment that was too intimate for you to witness- but who could do anything about that with nothing but flat desert all around and no time for privacy. You didn’t interrupt them again; maybe because against all odds you could relate to that hesitant affection, that guarded worry.

  
Candice averted her eyes and gritted her teeth. She was shaking with anger, fear, something or everything at once.

  
“I don’t like this, Bambi,” she said after a while, “I don’t want you to get hurt by her anymore.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you know about Giselle?” Candice asked you once when Bambietta was asleep with her fingers curled in her sleeves.

  
“Huh?”

  
“Y’know, I thought since you seem to have had some Quincy pals before someone might have told you. Pretty sure both Bazz and Askin know about it to some extent, that newbie prince could have been there for some of it too. So yeah, it’s not a secret.”  
Bambietta moved over to her other side, mumbling something unintelligible and sleepy. Candice hovered over her as if she feared her friend could fall at any second. The movements of her finger through shiny black hair were so gentle, so careful, that you had trouble watching.

  
“You gonna tell me?” you asked.

  
Candice shrugged and didn’t look up from Bambietta and the way her face scrunched up occasionally. The wish to chase someone’s nightmares away was not foreign to you.

  
“Giselle was Bambi’s girlfriend,” Candice said finally, “Before everything went to shit. She was Sternritter Z for Zombie and part of our group of friends, I knew her for an eternity before any of this happened.”

  
“Zombie?”

  
You remembered watching a film using the word, curled up in a human’s home with people you trusted around. The memory stung more than you wanted to let on, a sharp pain in your chest.

  
“Her blood turned everyone it touched into mindless slaves,” Candice continued, speaking so quietly you had trouble associating it with the person who talked to you so openly earlier.

  
“I think I heard of her. She could fix people’s injuries by using the corpses’ spare parts, eh?”

  
It reminded you of Szayel, of experiments on living flesh just for the sake of seeing what made it tick. What hadn’t bothered you back then sent shudders down your spine now- because you imagined it happening to you in the Quincy’s prisons or deep underneath Seiretei’s grounds.

  
“Yeah, she was sort of like a makeshift doctor for our team,” Candice agreed, “She gave me back my arm after I lost it. Or, well, she gave me _an_ arm.”

  
The way her eyes traced over the limb now told you she felt the same disgust you had when the metal first touched your flesh. Not a part of you. You were sure it was not made better by the fact that the new flesh sewn to her was organic.

  
Her story continued even as she shivered in the world’s strange air; as if it was a tale with a mind of its own that she had no control over. Candice feared being powerless, you saw it in her eyes and her posture and the hardening of her jaw. No one wanted a mindless friend but if there was a will you could never ensure their absolute safety.

  
“Bambi lost her fight and we went to find her,” she said and held the smaller girl’s hand in her own, “Liltotto, Meninas, Giselle, and me.”

  
“Those are other Sternritter, I’m guessing?”

  
“The Glutton, the Power and the Zombie. And yeah, Thunderbolt over here. We were all pretty high up on the food chain, not as high as the Schutzstaffel but still pretty okay as far as it went back then. That also meant we were under constant surveillance by Yhwach, though. His eyes were everywhere.”

  
_Still are_ , you thought, _Maybe._

  
“We found Bambi and she was in a horrible condition, all burnt and dying and stuff,” Candice continued, “So of course no one really thought anything of it when Giselle went to take care of her.”

  
She paused and swallowed, tried very hard not to let you see how it still affected her. Sometimes you forgot that to her it had not been very long- just a few weeks or months, maybe, not several years.

  
“I should have known something was up,” she said and laughed humorlessly, “But whatever, all that regret isn’t gonna change shit now.”

  
“So Giselle made her a zombie.”

  
“Worse than that. Way worse. Bambi remembers everything and it wasn’t just-”

  
Candice’s voice faded and she had to clear her throat, hunched over further.

  
“It wasn’t just fighting with her. Giselle used her for other things.”

  
In your time in between worlds you had learned how to read with medical journals and books- you had read about flashbacks, about episodes where your mind returned you to the trauma. You saw Luppi now, the blood he took, the pain he inflicted.

  
It hurt. It would never not hurt.

  
“So yeah, if there’s a possibility that she was controlled too, then Bambi is gonna wanna know,” Candice concluded, “I just don’t want to see this get worse again. I barely know what to do as it is.”

  
It came as a surprise she even told you this much; but there was no one else around, no one to share this with but you. You wondered if she had guessed, in that brief moment where she saw you with Luppi, that you could relate.

  
“You’re her girlfriend now, right? So just, y’know, be there for her and all that jazz,” you muttered.

  
Candice blushed bright red. You could see that she tried desperately not to grin wider than she physically could.

  
“I’m not, actually,” she sputtered, “I wish. Which sounds pathetic but shush, you Hollow heathen. Just because Bambi and I make out sometimes doesn’t mean we’re dating. Not, like, _dating_ dating.”

  
She slapped your shoulder gently as you rolled your eyes. Then Candice scooted closer, seemingly unaware of personal space. She didn’t stop until you sat shoulder-to-shoulder; Bambietta was still draped over her lap.

  
“I feel like shit, that whole cute stuff aside,” she said quietly, “And you do too. Let’s forget all this drama stuff for a few seconds and just, well, get some sleep.”

  
If her hands shook where she gripped Bambietta’s then you didn’t mention it.

 

* * *

 

 

_There was blood on your hands._

  
_When you looked up at the falling debris of the Soul King’s palace in the third assault, when you watched from below as the humans found their end. It was wrong to choose any one over the others but you saw Kurosaki die anyway, envisioned the way his spiritual pressure faded and eyes went dull before they broke. You saw none of that, of course, not from afar and not if he burned brighter than the flame of his hair._

  
_That was one time, just one._

  
_You gutted many in the deserts, both of them; for strength, for souls._

  
_There was blood on your hands then, too, but it felt different until it did not and you watched Askin refuse to beg for mercy or anything but death._

  
_You slept through the night but you felt ghostly touches on your skin, dying eyes on you. When you startled awake for a second you could almost taste bleeding lips on your own, burned or not._

  
_In your dreams you were not as powerless, you reached out and touched and kept all that for yourself that you could not in reality. You held them close and the warmth was not blood, was not fire._

  
_Attraction, affection-_

  
_you felt the heat of the flames on your skin, the heavy weight of a nameless poison._

  
_You curled your fingers in bloody dark hair, imagined feathery soft touches across your neck, chest, legs. There was guilt, too. Disgust at yourself and all of this, this useless fantasy._

  
_In your dreams you were not as powerless; you could touch and taste and keep all you wanted. You never had to choose._

  
_Hooks in your chest, words that were impossible to understand._

  
_There was blood on your hands._

 

* * *

 

 

Bambietta was the one who hugged you clumsily as your panic attack woke her up; she whispered curt sentences in your ear, told you it would all turn out okay.

  
It made no sense to you how her heart could be big enough to survive betrayal and abuse and still keep all of you inside without inhibitions, without even asking for an explanation. Her movements were practiced as if she did this often; you wondered who else she calmed down, who else she granted this kindness. Candice, perhaps. Maybe others.

  
“I count the seconds of each breath,” she told you, “Until I remember who I am.”

  
You didn’t know who you were, what you were, what the wasteland ever wanted from you. You knew you were not good enough, not strong enough, not clever enough to keep anyone alive or on your side, you knew there was a time and place for everything and you missed it every time with each stumbling step.

  
“Hey,” Bambietta called out to you and you flinched, gasped, dry-heaved with the feeling of organs underneath your fingertips, “Hey, you know what?”

  
“What?” you rasped and shivered so violently you didn’t know how your skin stayed attached.

  
“My friend Meninas told me this really bad joke a long time ago,” she answered.

  
“Huh?”

  
”So, y’know, imagine this man waking up in a hospital after a super serious accident,” Bambietta said and her voice faltered.

  
Through the static in your eyes you could tell she was biting her lips until they bled, until she didn’t feel the tears you thought you saw.

  
It didn’t matter. You were hardly a person.

  
“So he is all disoriented and shit but he immediately shouts ‘Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs!’”

  
You listened to her and your heartbeat and the buzzing of the air, the soft breathing of Candice leaning against the wall behind you. Oblivious, somehow, untouched by the wasteland’s influence that kept you and her friend awake.

  
“What does the doctor say?” you asked with a throat that tasted like blood.

  
Bambietta chuckled against your shoulder.

  
“He says: ‘I know you can't, I cut off your arms!’”

  
You closed your eyes and your laughter felt like blades in your throat. It bubbled up like something alive, though, a living, pulsing entity searching for a place to rest, a place to breathe even if it meant you couldn’t.

  
But you laughed, either way, with the world still going to shit and your dreams unreachable. Bambietta hiccuped through her tears and Candice snored just behind you- and you didn’t feel alone then, not at all.

 

* * *

 

 

From then on you slept curled so close to each other that you were reminded of tiny rodents sharing a nest, like the smallest of Hollows hiding below the bark of trees in Hueco Mundo’s underground forest.

  
If you had learned anything about the Quincy in your time since their war then that was how human they really were; below that countenance of power and immortality they still remembered when they were nothing but people. A long time ago you thought that was soft, cowardly, weak.

  
You missed it now, that human attitude that you had spent just enough time around to get attached to it. Orihime, offering you friendship when all you had was anger and claws. Kurosaki, smiling at you for no particular reason. Sado, talking to you when he didn’t have to.

  
Pantera did not tease you for feeling gut-wrenching pain, not this time, not when it reached deep enough for her to feel it, too. You missed them with an intensity that shocked you. After all this time, they and all the others should have faded into nothingness, just like your fracciónes had. But they didn’t and things changed and hurt and mattered.

  
You couldn’t understand why it was different now all off a sudden, why it hurt again as if the bandage was ripped from the wound. Nothing made sense to you, nothing at all, out there in those layered worlds with no clear destination.

  
Bambietta and Candice only had each other and you didn’t have to see them seek comfort to know that their cheerfulness was as much facade as it could ever be.

  
No one was happy here, no one wanted this world to stay.

  
The two Quincy had their own issues to work out and as time refused to pass like it should you were privy to their secrets.

  
Bambietta was the level-headed one but something about the wasteland had made her believe deeply in a fairy tale- that the girlfriend who tortured her for a long time was not at fault at all, that there was hope for them, that the useless love she still held was justified after all. It was easy to see even as an outsider, in the way she hurried the two of you along, how she shut down every attempt at changing course.

  
“We’ll find a way out of here,” she said with conviction, “And then I’ll-”

  
Of course she didn’t need to finish her sentence, you knew exactly what her plan was. Your arrogance had been squashed by the wasteland so you didn’t look down on her obsession- you were the same, desperate to figure out how all the pieces fit together. Bambietta had determination branded on her soul and she let you know; while keeping her own safe, but also never allowing any doubt she would get her way.

  
Candice was different; but Candice was also in love with her, unhappily so and without being fully aware of it.

  
“I don’t know how to help her,” she told you with her teeth gnashing like a feral beast, “I don’t fucking know anything about this world or who’s left or what to do.”

  
The rest of the time Candice played off her sincere worries with humor; you knew the type, had met more than one person like her before. But among Askin’s defeated sarcasm and Yoruichi’s teasing snark Candice stood out because she didn’t seem to understand what was going on in her own head.

  
“Look, yeah, we’re friends and all,” she told you and laughed as you made a comment about her and Bambietta, “But that’s it, y’know? Friends with benefits or whatever. Doesn’t mean I’m jealous or anything.”

  
She was. You knew what it looked like, had seen it in Soifon’s anger and Rukia’s sorrow often enough. By now you knew so many of them that you had references and knew what to look for, those tell-tale signs.

  
“You’re getting better at reading people,” Pantera had said and it sounded like backhanded praise more than anything, “I suppose something good did come from all of your trust.”

  
It also got all of you a wasteland, you thought, it all went to shit for that bit of misplaced trust.

  
For now, you walked- through the unknown third desert with two Quincy by your side who kept you glued together by your flayed edges.

  
You wondered if taking Askin apart was what became the final straw for you; that jigsaw puzzle of a human body that you unraveled and still couldn’t understand. It all came together here and you felt like the sand was just another strange dream and a never-ending stream of consciousness replaced it.

  
The inside on the outside, raw and vulnerable.

  
There was only the Soul King above you now, only that one enemy to focus your hatred on. Everything else seemed meaningless, everyone below just a pawn in their game.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take you long to believe that people’s minds could be controlled out here.

  
“I can hear something sometimes,” Bambietta whispered in the middle of the night, into the space below Candice’s jaw, for no one but her to hear, “Whispers. Voices. Actual voices, telling me to go somewhere and do things.”

  
“It’s okay, Bambi, we’ll figure it out-”

  
“No, you don’t understand- if the others are like this, too, then- if all of us-”

  
You tried so hard not to hear anything that your teeth ached and your ears buzzed; a thousand insects, another soul invading yours. The wasteland stripped you bare and gave you not a single space to feel safe, not a single quiet minute.

  
“I’m fucking scared,” Candice muttered, “What the hell? After all this shit this is what it’s coming down to again?”

  
It made sense to you. Why people acted in incomprehensible ways, why those who had died died again, why you chose isolation for no reason.

  
Your fear could not be voiced. You were paralyzed by it, out here beneath an unknown sky.

 

* * *

 

 

“I think I can use my power again,” Bambietta announced at some point. You didn’t know if it was morning or night or somewhere in between; it was bright in this desert, even with no sun. Sometimes you still wondered if this was what winter would make the sky look like in the human world; just a white nothingness up above.

  
Orihime promised you to show you around the snowed in areas as soon as it was time; obviously she never got around to it. Instead she burned and your heart faltered at the thought of it.

  
“So you can get us out of here?” you asked if only to disperse the terrible onslaught of intrusive memories.

  
Bambietta smoothed down the skirt of her uniform, brushed off the jacket, tugged at strands of her hair as if she needed to fix her exterior to compose herself.

  
Candice crossed her arms over her chest and you didn’t have to ask her what she was thinking. An escape was great- but it got you closer to Giselle. It had not escaped your notice that neither of them claimed she was alive at all.

  
“I’ll try to get us a layer deeper,” Bambietta said and spread out her fingers in the empty air, “That was the plan before Las Noches collapsed. We were gonna take all of us down there and move on as a unit but apparently that’s a no-go.”

  
“Let’s go,” you told her immediately, “No time like the present, right? This damn place is getting on my fucking nerves already.”

  
You were exhausted. It annoyed you, that fucked up tiredness that crept up on you again and again just because this world didn’t allow you a break. It felt unfair, as if you were being cheated out of that power you amassed before. Even now it infuriated you because the issue was supposed to be fixed with your new arm, that piece-of-trash metal abnormality leeching off of you.

  
Then there were those obnoxious dreams that never allowed you rest from the wasteland. You didn’t remember much when you woke up covered in sweat with your breathing hectic and shallow. Panic attacks were never far away.

  
Candice shuddered as Bambietta went to work. They had not been treated any more kindly than you.

  
It was a surreal moment, a crack in the surface of your world. You felt it splinter, that indelible fabric of reality as it was torn apart at the seams.

  
“Look at it,” you imagined the Kurosaki twins would have told you if they could see you now, “Where even are we?”

  
You had never found a satisfactory answer. You wondered if you ever would.

  
Not Hueco Mundo, not the human world, not the Soul Society- it was a patchwork of other things, something ugly and malformed as if a million possible visions of an apocalypse had been smashed together until they got stuck.

 

* * *

 


	40. in(ter)vention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things I could have done to make this chapter longer but I don't like doing that so here it is, a very small part of the story with another one of those fun moments that deal with all the prior trauma that I left unaddressed for a while. When proofreading this story I often wondered if the gratuitous hurt that the first part had was really necessary and I gotta be honest here, I am not entirely comfortable with the way it went.  
> However, I do want to talk about how there is a way out of that sort of situation and how there can recovery where there was pain or trauma. Probably a bit of an unnecessary comment at this point but yeah, that's my stance on this. Whew. Things change.
> 
> Warnings for: body horror, violence, more abuse mention, panic attacks and (^^tldr) trauma

* * *

 

 

Giselle Gewelle was not a person anymore when you found her.

  
By now you should have become used to it- that promise of a darker, deeper power below the bones of everyone the Soul King watched. It felt like the memory of a gruesome dream now to remember the leeches in your own flesh, to feel them move within the skin as if you were nothing but their feeding ground.

  
Giselle Gewelle was infected, too, and worse off than anyone you had met before.

  
Your leeches never strayed far from your arm until the end because they served as a reminder; only as they sensed you were trying to get rid of them and their curse did they try to sink their teeth into your brain, shut it off. With Askin it was similar and you allowed yourself to think that out here, out of sight from those who would judge it.

  
“So you do think he is being controlled, that one Quincy you picked,” Pantera said, “So what now, are you going to save him? Save them all? You’re not taking Kurosaki’s place in this hell, Grimmjow. I won’t let you.”

  
Giselle was not a person anymore as you found her. By that you could mean a great many things- the infection in her head or the way her limbs were no longer attached to her body.

  
It was cruel and you knew it at first glance, so uselessly cruel that your mind did not process she was an enemy right away.

  
“Who the hell cares about those fucked up labels right now?” you spat at Pantera in your head because she was the only one who listened, “Who the fuck does this, who the fuck thinks this is the way things should be?”

  
“Is anyone there?” Giselle asked and her voice was nothing like you expected. Nothing like Luppi or Aizen, none of that obvious cruelty. A voice that was easy to believe. You shuddered through the thought.

  
“I can hear you,” she said with lips swollen from biting, saliva trailing down her chin, “Come closer. I won’t bite.”

  
She giggled and her decapitated head shook, long black hair swinging from side to side.

  
Giselle looked like a model for the structure of a human body in a textbook; her head and limbs disconnected from her torso, attached to the wall of a room with high ceilings. There were leeches coming from her eyes, her ears, her nose.

  
“You smell like a Hollow,” she said and smiled, “Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not in terrible pain.”

  
The last thing you had thought of was whether or not she deserved this treatment. That kind of thinking was arbitrary, not at all applicable when she was crucified on a fractured dimension’s surface.

  
“I want all of this to stop,” you thought to Pantera and she listened, “There is too much. This is too much.”

  
So you turned around, stumbled away and into someone.

  
“Hey, watch where you’re-”

  
Bambietta shrunk as if someone forced her into a smaller version of herself, a body of a child that didn’t fit her anymore. Her voice died with a terrible tiny noise, just half of a shriek.

  
“What’s happening?” Candice called from further back and it took her all but a few seconds to arrive, too. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw the figure on the wall, the sum, and its parts.

  
“Shit,” she said, “Oh no. Of all the things-”

  
“I know those voices,” the head on the wall interrupted her, “Oh, I wish I could shake your hands.”

  
It was like the beginning of a dramatic movie scene; everything that possibly could go wrong suddenly did and you were all so dumbfounded time took a while to keep moving.

  
You knew what abuse felt like, had come to accept what Luppi and Aizen did to you as such and kept those memories far from the happy ones. But you never loved or even liked them; you never cared for one second if they lived or died.

  
Bambietta shook so hard you thought she would cause an earthquake- out here in this crevice between worlds that she had transported you too. You had found Giselle comically fast after all that lay behind you- just a wrong step ahead and there she was, waiting for you.

  
Well, not you.

  
Bambietta took a step closer and you wanted to run away and leave them to their own devices because this seemed like something you shouldn’t witness. It wasn’t your story. Except suddenly it was and you saw it unfold.

  
“Is that you, Bambi?” Giselle asked as the leeches grew and devoured her like a shrub of vines curling around their wooden mounting.

 

It was the last thing she said; just that, no more and no less.

  
Bambietta reached out with trembling fingers but never grasped anything- not with the Soul King’s failsafe disposing of evidence.

  
You knew this was what would have happened to you, too- and to Askin had you not torn out his insides in time.

  
It was over before it even began. It passed you by and you stumbled, away from those Quincy needing their privacy. You saw Candice hugging Bambietta with all the desperation of someone who had no idea how to help.

  
“She was alive,” you heard one of them whisper, “In here. I didn’t get to her in time.”

 

* * *

 

 

That was the second that you felt yourself crack. It was a long time coming- because for outsiders it was easy to tell you to pull yourself together, to get up and follow the path of least resistance. For you, living the nightmare, there happened to be a day when it became impossible.

  
It was now, between the feeling of a frightened heart against your fingertips and the Quincy who gave their all to help you survive, that you couldn’t keep it together any longer.

  
The world shifted and turned and you ran and lost all sense of time.

  
“Grimmjow?” someone asked and it sounded like Tesla of all people, Tesla the coward who was nothing but a blueprint for what Luppi did to you, too.

  
“It changes you,” you heard him say to Bambietta two heartbeats later, “It can’t not change you. In my case, they tried to burn the Hollow out of me.”

  
You tried to speak but there was nothing for you to say, no words in your choked throat just like there had never been any to say to keep the ones you cared for by your side.

  
Just like in your dream- where you had all you wanted, where there was no choice and no complications and no blood on soft hair staining it red.

  
However, the world cared little for you and your small plight.

  
“What if the innermost layer is the world we came from? If the Soul King just dropped us outside in this weird mess of a world?”

  
Someone spoke around you, another touched your shoulder and held you steady.

  
You met him, then, in your delirium; the Soul King.

  
During your stay in the human world you once let the people you trusted take you to an aquarium- and they spoke to you of sea creatures and the horrors hidden deep in the ocean.

  
That was what meeting the Soul King felt like to you now- as if you saw one of the ancient gods of the world in the abyss, cowered before him.

  
Vasto Lorde had been like this, too, on a smaller scale, just a silhouette burning a hole into your head. You caved, you always did.

  
Someone pulled you along without words, into different layers, and past those horrors. Only once did you see their face and you thought you knew them, maybe.

  
The words were gone. You were gone, too.

  
The fools around you screamed to run, to leave, to get to a better place.

  
So when a new layer opened and there was light and with it came people to capture you there was no resistance you could offer.

  
You spiraled into nothing with that gentle touch gone, the hand in yours that helped you through the endless night.

  
The wasteland was long since in your head.

 

* * *

 


	41. not all is sombre and cruel; not every last chance gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some references to the panic attacks and mayyybe a tiny bit of sadness. Pretty tame in comparison to what happened recently, though.
> 
> I don't thank y'all enough for sticking with this and reading it and kudo'ing and all the cool shit so here it is, the thanks, finally, once more, heartfelt and sappy.

* * *

 

 

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

  
“Oh, I just didn’t realize you meant _this_ blue-haired ill-tempered Arrancar with the bone mask and the hole in his stomach, I thought you were talking about someone else.”

  
The voices were what shook you awake. They were just a distant rumble to you, a background noise to the sounds of whatever you saw in your dream. However, the moment you attempted to focus on the images they began to dissolve. They were like smoke between your fingers, like the cold sand of Hueco Mundo’s desert.

  
So you listened to the voices instead. This time the words began to make sense again, slowly forming into a solid mass of meaning.

  
“As soon as he wakes up you will make sure to find out exactly what he knows. The others are our priority for now but if they don’t yield any results-”

  
“Yeah, I get it.”

  
“Good.”

  
“Doesn’t mean I agree with your methods.”

  
“I know.”

  
Footsteps, leading away from your position.

  
You took a deep breath, curled your fingers into the surface below. It was soft, a little too stiff to be a blanket.

  
“You can stop pretending you’re asleep now.”

  
It was the second voice and you recognized it the moment you assigned it that number. Shinji Hirako. The last time you had seen him was in that prison, bleeding out. Then he was nothing but a voice in the wall, saying things you wanted to hear about not being left behind.

  
You blinked, testing out the limits of your mind. Everything that happened before was only a blur now, that elusive time frame between seeing Giselle die and waking up here. The one thing that stayed the same through all of that was the ticking in the back of your head, the part of your souls that kept on counting the seconds.

  
A week had passed, you realized, staring at the gritty gray surface of what you lay on. The clock in your head kept on counting.

  
“Hey, can you hear me?” Hirako asked.

  
You lifted your head to smile at him weakly.

  
“Growing your hair out again, huh, blondie?”

  
He laughed and you remembered him better when he was like this, joking and on your side. Injury was not a good look on him, not in this wasteland and not before it ever grasped you. Then again, you had no idea where you were.

  
You saw iron bars and realized this was a prison- a literal one, this time. Hirako sat beside you on the cot and steadied himself with both palms. It looked like it could splinter and injure him any second but you knew he had seen worse than one tiny cut.

  
“Good to see you alive,” he said and you felt warmth pool in your chest, slow and happy. Pantera was quiet and the feeling felt so much more intense than you remembered- as if it wasn’t limited anymore. As if suddenly you were _you_ again.

  
“Right back at you,” you mumbled.

  
Hirako cocked his head.

  
“Are you good for a hug? I could use a hug.”

  
“Like hell,” you said and hugged him.

 

* * *

 

 

 _You made friends in that war and during that summer, so_ many _more than you ever thought your heart could handle._

  
_Hollows never learned how to be like this. It wasn’t in your instincts or your blood, it wasn’t a reflex Hueco Mundo trained into your body. Caring was more, less, different._

  
_You learned how to care, though, somewhere among small bonfires and stars above a human city. You learned how to love, too, in different shapes and forms._

  
_Those were thoughts you repeated to yourself because even if you wanted things to be easy they were anything but. Some hours were so good and shining in your memory, so precious to you that it scared your souls to death._

  
_What is precious hurt to be lost, you reminded yourself when you hugged all those who were so dear to you_ now. _What is precious is dying to be killed._

  
_But you had friends. You were considered a friend to others._

  
_You felt pride at those thoughts. It wasn’t your choice to be isolated again in the wasteland- you began to suspect that now. What you wanted was all of them safe and close._

 

* * *

 

 

“Who else is here?” was the first thing you asked and you knew that just a few days ago it would have been a different question. It didn’t matter to the you of yesterday what the future would bring.

  
“Me,” a cheerful voice scared you from the side you had not checked yet. A mistake a Hollow in the grip of Hueco Mundo never would have made- but you were older now, not as vicious. Quiet, too, in using your heart.

  
Yoruichi squeezed your shoulder and crossed one of her legs over the other. She was grinning. You noted it down as a good thing, huffed out a laugh.

  
“Yeah, you’re very much here,” you said and the corners of your lips curved upwards, “Hello.”

  
Her smile was kinder than you remembered. She saw your tired self and went easy on you and for once, just once, you didn’t feel the need to be angry.

  
“That’s not true,” you imagined Pantera would say if she wasn’t silent and unhappy, “You haven’t known how to be angry in a while.”

  
“A lot of people are here,” Hirako answered and shrugged, “Anyone in particular you wanna know about?”

  
So many names to choose from. So many different answers you feared.

  
“Orihime,” you said, quietly, into the space beneath his ear, “Is she here?”

  
Silence.

  
Then, “No”.

  
You hummed; it was not an unexpected answer. So you made a list in your head and decided to tick it off one by one, as if this was a fun trip to go shopping for and not an inventory of corpses.

  
“Sado?”

  
“Not here. Ichigo isn’t either, by the way.“

  
“Rukia?”

  
“Yes. I just visited her with Renji.”

  
“What about Nel? The other Hollows?”

  
“Just a few are here. I don’t know them, though.”

  
There were more names to ask for but you could barely stomach the first ones on their own. So you decided to change it up, question something else.

  
The first thing you should have asked, according to Pantera. By now you were almost happy to hear her angry voice in your inner world. She was there again. Nothing could tear her away from you.

  
“Where is this?” you asked, “Where the fuck are we?”

  
Yoruichi spoke up again, contemplative.

  
“See, we don’t know that. That’s something we would like you to share some of your insight on.”

  
“For now let’s just say that we’re still in the wasteland,” Hirako said, “Deeper within than before, presumably. Some layers down from the one we woke up in.”

  
You slowly uncurled your body from around his and scooted backwards. It was only now as you attempted to move more quickly that you realized something wasn’t right.

  
Yoruichi’s strong arms steadied you as you swayed even while sitting down, leading you backwards against the wall.

  
“You were given a light sedative,” she said and you were sure there was disapproval in her voice, “Just to make sure you sleep through the night.”

  
“Huh?” you managed to say. Everything else seemed like a waste of time- because what were questions, what were answers, what was anything when your tongue tasted like cardboard and your head begged to be cracked open.

  
“You were in a state of panic for a while,” Yoruichi explained and patted your cheek, tried to get your blurry vision to focus on her, “Or that’s what the people you arrived with said. You needed rest.”

  
“The effects will pass in a few hours,” Hirako added, “You should probably take your time to sleep it off. We’ll fill you in later.”

  
As if on cue you felt tired again, with an ache in your chest for warmth and a place to rest your head without fearing to find it taken from you when you woke up.

  
It was a thought you hadn’t had in a while- what if you opened your eyes to a better world the next time? What if this was the dream?

  
You slumped and felt your temple make contact with something soft. The sharp edges of your teeth dug into your tongue.

  
To a better start, you thought, to something new.

 

* * *

 

 

_Orihime’s hair was soft beneath your fingertips and you ran your hand over it once more for good measure._

  
_“Done,” you said and frowned, “It looks-”_

  
_“Decent,” Rukia supplied at the same time you said “Fucking terrible”._

  
_For a second the two of you just looked at each other with wary surprise. You didn’t expect her to give you a chance. But she did- because Rukia was so warm-hearted that her Bankai seemed like absolute irony. She had not lost that spark of suspicion but you saw how she suppressed it with all the force of her will. So many people were so proud of her._

  
_Orihime laughed and turned around, nestling with the braid you had put in her hair. She smiled so brightly you felt your heart seize again. In the memory you had no fear of losing this moment at all, none of the terror that would come with leeches and betrayal and death._

  
_“You’re making progress,” Orihime told you and took your hand in hers, “It’s so nice you agreed to try it out, Grimmjow.”_

  
_“It really is,” Rukia commented and her eyes sparkled, “Getting soft, eh?”_

  
_You shrugged and fell into a lazy grin._

  
_“I saw you guys hold hands while cooking, I don’t think I’m the one getting too soft here, Kuchiki.”_

  
_Rukia blushed so quickly and strongly that you almost took pity on her. Orihime only laughed again. It had been a while since you saw her uncertain- for_ now _she had found her place in the world. Or really, what they did was create something for themselves when no one truly believed they could. They made it work and you were there to see it._

  
_“Shush, you,” Rukia scolded you as you kept on grinning just to annoy her. The embarrassment was still tangible in her voice but there was also pride. Her confidence had increased so much since the end of the war- because she changed and developed and improved all she could. You grudgingly admitted to yourself that you admired her, that tiny shinigami who somehow managed to forgive you for hurting her. It was nothing you could apologize for now- but you explained it with the few words you knew, that fear of being killed if you didn’t kill first. She understood, accepted, nodded at you when you said those things to her in private._

  
_“The world’s changing,” Rukia told you, “It’s not as easy to tell what’s right or wrong anymore. I wanted to keep on hating all Hollows but there is Nel and you changed, too. So let’s try and make this a fresh start, okay?”_

  
_And she extended her hand. She was so much smaller than you but it didn’t matter because her presence filled the room. A shinigami that tried to learn about you and Hollows and what made you tick._

  
_Half a year before this, before you stayed in a desert and then a palace with a ragtag assortment of people, you would have laughed at this._

  
_Rukia was right then, though. You had to change too, already had._

  
_You took her hand and shook it._

  
_So now you saw her with your best friend and you were quietly happy and more audibly teasing; you stayed at their place sometimes and made an effort because they did so much for you, too._

  
_Friends, you thought, you made friends in humans and shinigami and Hollows and Quincy. So many of them didn’t get what they deserved._

 

* * *

 

 

You blinked awake and the first thing you noticed was how decidedly clear your vision was. The sedative seemed to have lost its effect. You wondered how much time had passed.

  
Looking around you saw you were still in the cell, still in captivity. It had been a while since you saw prison walls from within- Starrk was with you the last time, Luppi still a distant painful memory. Nothing of it felt real now.

  
Yoruichi and Hirako were gone but you had not expected them to stay by your side within a prison cell forever- if your assumptions were true then they were allied with whoever was in command.

  
Across from you on the other side of the small room was another familiar face, though.

  
“Heya,” Candice said and waved, “Can you hear me?”

  
“Why the hell-” you began and stopped yourself. You didn’t really have to ask why she wanted to know that- you could imagine.

  
_A state of panic_ was how they had called it before, that vortex you fell in that felt like just another wasteland trick to splinter your head into a million jagged pieces.

  
“Did you drag me all the way here?” you asked and wondered what the correct way to thank someone for such a thing could be. You didn’t know, gratefulness was a concept of a summer, not a dying world. You wanted to learn again.

  
Candice shrugged.

  
“Yeah, we kinda took turns and got you here somehow. Bambi, me, Franceska, and Emilou, I mean.”

  
The first names of two of the Bestias sounded appreciative on her tongue but it had been years since you ever heard someone call them that. Amazon warriors who demanded respect and never once admitted defeat in battle, not if there was still air in their lungs. It would take you a while to remember they were on your side again- a while and maybe more actions than words.

  
“So they are here, too?” you asked, “Safe?”

  
“Well,” Candice replied and gestured vaguely with both hands, “Sort of. We met them and their other Hollow friend when-”

  
She stopped, paused, scratched her fingernails across the wooden plank below her.

  
“-when Giselle happened. Or a little after that maybe. The rest of the way wasn’t much nicer so you didn’t miss a lot, really.”

  
“What other Hollow?” you snapped and lowered your voice as you saw her raise an eyebrow, “Was it Nel? Is she alive?”

  
Candice gave you a look of sympathy that looked like she still practiced to remove all condescension from it.

  
“Bambi’s Hollow, Tesla,” she informed you, “He helped us fight off Pernida and Lille atop the castle and found us again somewhere in those layered worlds. I don’t really get how they work, to be honest, I am just glad we got out. No thanks to you but hey, no offense and all.”

  
You snorted and pulled your knees into your chest, resting your chin on top.

  
“I am sure your not-sister is fine,” Candice said and got up from her spot to sit down next to you, “The rest of the ones who made it here are being questioned, by the way.”

  
“Are you ever gonna tell me the whole story?”

  
“Jeez, talk about ungrateful,” she complained in mock offense and slapped your shoulder, “But yeah, I can tell you what I remember.”

 

* * *

 

 

Candice was not the best storyteller- she went off on tangents and produced various noises in response to your questions sometimes. However, she managed to fill you in on the situation quicker than you had hoped.

  
It seemed that your little group ran into Apacci, Mila Rose and Tesla while blindly stumbling around the layer you remembered Giselle on. Candice skipped a lot of the details of how exactly the traveling happened which led you to believe that it took her and Bambietta more power to transport all of you than she would have liked. Furthermore she confirmed what you had thought to be a fever dream-

  
“We ran into the Soul King?” you asked incredulously, “So who is it?”

  
Candice shrugged and made a noise you didn’t know how to interpret.

  
“We couldn’t tell, but it was freaking scary. There was nothing we could have done to fight back, we just ran deeper through the layers until these peeps caught us.”

  
“Who are they?”

  
Candice was about to repeat the same procedure, _shrug and vague noise_ but you glared at her until she laughed instead.

  
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “Some shinigami, I think. They said they’ll have to question us before we can be allowed to walk around anywhere.”

  
You hummed and tapped your fingers on the wood until they found a nervous rhythm.

  
“What do they think we’ll tell them?” you asked.

  
Candice hesitated because her amusement didn’t extend to cruelty. She swallowed.

  
“They want us to tell them who killed Kurosaki and his friends.”

 

* * *

 


	42. safe in ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: grimmichi
> 
> yeah my dudes didn't see that one coming now did you

* * *

 

 

“An interrogation?” was all you said as the door opened and closed. You were alone in the cell right now.

  
“No,” the man answered and just barely smiled, “I’m not here as a shinigami today.” You recognized his voice as the one who was present when you first awoke.

  
“Oh. Am I being executed already? That was pretty damn quick.”

  
“Nothing so drastic,” he laughed, “No, I’m here as Ichigo’s father now.”

  
It seemed worse to you for a second; as if he was going to torture his son’s death out of you. But Isshin Kurosaki did not seem angry at all, just tired.

  
“So what do you want from me?” you asked.

  
He smiled very briefly and sat down on the chair across from you with his legs on either side of its backrest.

  
“My son and you,” he began and hesitated as if the thought alone pained him too much to continue, “No one is telling me outright as if there was any point in keeping it a secret now.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“What can I even offer you?” you asked him and sneered, “An empty desert kingdom and violent mood swings?”_

  
_Ichigo didn’t laugh like you expected him to. Maybe he failed to see the humor in your strange feelings of inadequacy. It was new to both of you._

  
_“You don't have to offer me anything. That’s not how this works.”_

  
_“I don’t know how it works,” you admitted and shifted from one leg to another, “I don’t even really know what the fuck it is.”_

  
_“That’s so dramatic.”_

  
_“Shut up.”_

  
_“No, really, listen,” Ichigo said and smoothed down the collar of your jacket, “I don’t have a clue either. But I want to try, okay? Hollow or not, shinigami or not.”_

  
_He was still so gentle with you; teased you whenever he could but also took his time to calm you down even if his hands were the ones shaking._

  
_“Idiot,” you told him, “I thought to make this work you needed more than one person.”_

  
_It had never been his job to fix you._

* * *

 

 

“I didn’t kill him,” you said and even though you blamed yourself for not being faster you knew it was the truth. You didn’t kill Ichigo Kurosaki, only ever came too late to save him and all the others you held so dear. Orihime burned, too. Sado did. Ishida and his desperate quest to be accepted. It annoyed you they weren’t asked about; it was only ever the one most useful to the shinigami, only-

  
“That’s not what I am asking,” Isshin said and crossed his arms before his chest, “I want to know what kind of relationship the two of you had.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _Weirdly, your first thought was_ “It doesn’t hurt”.

  
_Then, “_ What?”

  
_Kurosaki didn’t kiss like he fought, not at all. He was an inexperienced human boy and you a ghost in a shell, overwhelmed, unmoving, quiet._

  
_His fingers shook as he brushed them against your side, slowly trailed them over the side of your arms up to your shoulders._

  
_Kurosaki kissed as if he was head over heels in love with you, gentle and nervous and a mess of epic proportions. Then again, you still hadn’t managed to move at all. It did not really compute, the sensations of his lips on yours, his hands stroking your skin._

  
_Unlike him you had not closed your eyes and stared at his eyelids now, the lashes light as the freckles spreading all over the bridge of his nose. You didn’t know where to put your hands or how to organize your thoughts._

  
_Then Kurosaki stepped backwards, away from you and the world was suddenly back at your side. You stared, swallowed, blinked. The look in his eyes was as warm as his fingers on your hips. Scathing. You shuddered._

  
_“That was my first kiss, so, uh, could you maybe say something before I freak out?” he asked and blushed bright red, “Shit, I just-”_

  
_You cleared your throat to end his nervous stuttering._

  
_”Same,” you said, raspier than you expected._

  
_“You’re also freaking out?”_

  
_“I’ve also-” you began and your face and ears burned, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”_

  
_His embarrassment made way to something more fond, a playfulness you had seen from him before, even aimed at you. Since you fought on the same side- temporarily- it had happened more often. Kurosaki’s eyes would slide shut as he smiled at you, his teasing exaggerated in a manner that involved touching you. A friendly punch to the shoulder, the swipe of a thumb across your palm as he pulled you up._

  
_“Well, technically-” he said now and offered you his hand, “You didn’t reciprocate just now, so you still haven’t had it.”_

  
_“Had what?”_

  
_“A first kiss.”_

  
_It was an invitation and you didn’t know what to say, if there was a protocol for this you were not aware of. Kurosaki confused you so much when he wasn’t this close, so it only got worse with his reiatsu pulsing softly against your skin. Intoxicating, the warmest presence._

  
_It was too much then, too little of the things you knew were real._

  
_You pushed him away a little harsher than you intended. One step backwards, another. It didn’t take any effort to turn on your heel and walk-_

  
_“Hey,” Kurosaki said and you could tell he was close, “Just a second.”_

  
_Your legs twitched, answering the call to run away from all this, lick your wounds in private, return to kill. It scared you how much you disliked the pattern._

  
Kill him, kill him, kill him.

  
_What left a stale taste in your mouth before didn’t work at all now; what if, now of all things,_ what if-

  
_“Don’t run away now, okay?”_

  
_Kurosaki’s fingers brushed against your back and you resisted the urge to hack away at them. You didn’t understand his gentleness quite yet, your instincts called at you to get rid of it the only way you knew._

  
_“You don’t have to run,” he said, “If you don’t want anything like this, just tell me and I’ll never mention this happened, but-”_

  
_He paused._

  
_“But?”_

  
_“You said yes.”_

  
_And in the way he said it you finally heard the vulnerability Kurosaki was hiding; because he was just as confused as you, just a little braver, a little more open about what he wanted._

  
_“_ Can I kiss you? _” he repeated his earlier words, out of the blue, into the blue again, “You said yes so I thought-”_

  
_His words died off again, lowered voice and helplessness._

  
_“I thought this was okay,” he finished and his palm lay flat against your spine now._

  
_Your heart was too small. No one taught you how to feel like this._

  
_“I don’t-” you tried to voice what was on your mind, all that scrambled shit making no sense anymore, “I can’t-”_

  
_“It’s okay, you’re okay.”_

  
_So sweet, his consideration. Sickening how you reacted to it._

  
_You turned to face him again with a semblance of bravado. Kurosaki was not smiling now, his lips a thin line, his eyes narrowed. If you hadn’t known better you would have thought he was angry._

  
_“Was that a one-time deal or can I try again?” you asked and tried to grin but it came out just a little wrong, just a little too lopsided._

  
_Kurosaki’s lips twitched and he relaxed. Both of you were wound too tight. Weird, weird, weird._

  
_“You’re-” he began and coughed, rubbed his neck, shifted, “You’re cute when you’re blushing.”_

  
_It wasn’t a word you had ever heard anyone associate with you; only mockingly, maybe, to insult the shape of your ears, the color of your hair._

  
_Kurosaki meant it and you were still unsure how to feel about that._

  
_Then you reached out to cradle the side of his face with your right hand. Aeons seemed to pass as you leaned closer, glanced up at his eyes to make sure this was where you were going, this was what you committed to._

  
_“Fuck,” you whispered and laughed breathlessly._

  
_“Fuck,” Ichigo echoed and closed his eyes._

  
_You pressed your lips against the corner of his first. Close like this you were uncertain about your hands and moved them down his body again to rest on his waist._

  
_Ichigo’s hands curled in your hair, massaged your neck until the tension bled away._

  
_Kissing him was stranger than not kissing him had ever been; but your heart beat in your chest and your cheeks burned and his kisses tasted like fresh water._

  
_You couldn’t close your eyes, the feeling was too strange and incomprehensible to allow yourself to sink into it just yet. Hollows weren’t made for this, you found yourself coming back to all the time, Hollows aren’t designed to feel like this._

  
_Yet you did; and you were still you; and you were still a Hollow._

  
_Nothing of that magically vanished just because he was kissing you and your pulse threatened to slice open your chest a second time._

  
_Ichigo was insistent but also lenient with you, as if he wanted to make it clear this was his wish but also had to be yours to work out. And wasn’t that a strange way to think about it- as if it_ mattered, _as if his intentions were to stay with you._

  
_You didn’t know how this worked and no amount of brute force could give you an explanation- to you fire was like rain when it came to human fears, an ocean the same as a desert._

  
_“I thought you would be different,” Kurosaki muttered against your lips and opened his eyes as he pulled back for a little while. Your mouth felt dry and your tongue too heavy. He smelled and tasted like minty toothpaste._

  
_“Rude,” you rasped, “Different how?”_

  
_“Does it matter?”_

  
_“I don’t know. Does it?”_

  
_Ichigo laughed and leaned his forehead against yours, still blushing as if this was new to him too. It occurred to you just seconds later that yes, it was and yes, he had thought about you like this._

  
_“I thought you would be,” he began and paused, contemplating, stalling for time._

  
_Then he stopped, huffed out a laugh again._

  
_“I thought you would be less responsive. Colder. Not as honest about this.”_

  
_You could have been offended but what you expected him to say was something else entirely-_ thought you would be violent, overpowering, unrelenting, even in this.

  
_“Sounds like you took the whole ‘undead’ thing a little too literally, Kurosaki,” you muttered and smirked into the space between your faces,_ “What, _thought I’d be like a damn corpse?”_

  
_“Cold as a fish,” he agreed and grinned with you, “I mean, you do have a hole in your stomach.”_

  
_As you leaned in to kiss him again so did he. You bumped noses and flinched away, looked at each other sheepishly._

  
_Ichigo stroked his index finger over the mask on your cheek. He watched you out of hooded eyes. His faint smile never faltered._

  
_“And a row of teeth sticking out of your face,” he continued, “That’s not exactly a thing many living people have.”_

  
_“Gonna have to take your word on that.”_

  
_You sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth, once, twice, a third and final time. For now._

  
_“You’re warm, though,” you said and curled your fingers against his skin, “Burning up over there, Kurosaki.”_

  
_“Yeah. You too.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  
“Were you together?” Isshin asked, “Because that’s what Shinji’s slip of the tongue insinuated.”

  
You looked down and then back up again, wondering what difference this would make. It was nothing you ever wanted to share, something quiet and warm you kept with the nicest memories those humans helped you make. Sentimental, surely, but also the only practical way to last through years of less than a friendly touch.

  
Luppi tried so very hard to make it difficult for you to keep going.

  
“Sort of,” you told Isshin then because he was right, “Not officially, but we tried. I wasn’t very good at being with someone.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Ichigo kissed the top of your head and you had to try really hard not to smile. Ultimately, you failed._

  
_“You’re so-” he started and raked his fingers through your hair, “-affectionate today.”_

  
_You rested your head on his shoulder and tugged the blanket closer to you, made sure he was completely covered. With an arm around his waist you took care none of the cold air reached him. Ichigo was more susceptible to temperature changes than you and never stopped complaining about the heat during the summer; now he was shivering and frowning as the days grew shorter and the wind harsher._

  
_“Want me to punch you instead?” you mumbled and nudged him with your nose._

  
_Ichigo’s hand stopped where it had caressed the skin behind your ear, moving in slow circles to your neck and back up again._

  
_“What’s up?” you asked and looked up at his face; averted, distant, even if you were so close._

  
_“You can feel it too, right?” he asked and sighed, “Something’s changing.”_

  
_It was nothing you wanted to talk about; that sense of dread looming over all this, sending your stomach into spasms. Within lay the most desperate kind of struggle. Your happiness was so fragile and had taken so long to find that the thought of losing it physically hurt._

  
_“I don’t want things to change,” you said and felt like a child not comprehending time._

  
_Ichigo laughed and it sounded sad; you didn’t want this, didn’t want any of it. Pantera was quiet now as she listened to the frantic beat of your heart and the panic you couldn’t suppress._

  
_“I’m kind of really fucking scared,” Ichigo said so you didn’t have to, “So there is something you have to promise me, okay?”_

  
_You stiffened and moved away from him, just a little, enough to bring more sadness to his face. Sometimes you still saw who you wanted to kill for so long. Then, beyond the instinct, you felt like telling him all those strange and irrevocable things you couldn’t name if you tried. It was a pull inside your chest, as if something hooked under your ribs and tugged at them. The more you waited the more it grew until you wanted to tear the world apart or hide from it entirely._

  
_“Grimmjow?” Ichigo asked and you tipped your head to look at him again._

  
_“Hm?”_

  
_“Promise me?”_

  
_And with alarming clarity you realized that he had already spoken, had already confessed what he needed you to do for him. You hadn’t listened, self-centered, caught up in your own fears. The shame you felt was endless; too real to ignore, too new to understand._

  
_“Yeah,” you said and your throat felt like ash, “I promise.”_

  
_You were on the roof of his house, wrapped up and huddled close. Above were the stars and summer was ending, slowly, as if lingering in a moment could make it last past its time._

  
_Ichigo’s fingers moved again, nimble and smooth._

  
_So you settled down next to him again, so close that the line of his arm, his side, his leg was aligned with yours. He reached to hold your hand with his free one and squeezed, once, before simply embracing you._

  
_You could ask about the words you missed another day, another time. They seemed less important than this now; because comforting each other came first. High up on the list, the start of the page. Where it ended you did not know._

  
_“Are you asleep?”_

  
_“No, I’m listening,” you mumbled and closed your eyes._

  
_Ichigo brushed your hair out of your face and kissed the top of your head again._

  
_“You idiot, could have told me you are tired.”_

  
_“I’m not tired,” you protested very quietly, “I’m awake and alert and ready to fuck up anyone who disagrees.”_

  
_Ichigo laughed then and you never once considered it could be the last night on earth._

  
_You would wake up to find him gone and the third assault underway; you would run and catch up to them, fail to make a deal._

  
_For now, for this one last night of summer, you could fall asleep not knowing what lay ahead._

* * *

 

 

Isshin Kurosaki didn’t hurt or ask you more questions; he only looked at you for a very long time and then turned away. You saw the way his shoulders shook but you didn’t know what it meant for a father to lose his child.

  
“Your daughters are alive,” you spoke up and watched him spin around almost comically fast.

  
“What-”

  
And there it was, the anger in his voice and the suspicion. You were tired too.

  
“I met them in the wasteland,” you interrupted him and met his eyes without faltering once, “They’re pretty damn strong for a bunch of human kids. The others I came here with said Nel went back to get them.”

  
Isshin was quiet again, the red rim around his eyes very visible even with the smudges of dirt across his face.

  
“You kept them safe,” he stated and it was surprise you heard now.

  
“Sorta,” you replied and shrugged, “It was a mutual thing. They helped me, too.”

  
He didn’t laugh but you didn’t expect him to. It was a Kurosaki trait to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

 

* * *

 


	43. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you for everyone who is still reading this, I hope you guys stick with me till the end here because this story means a whole hell of a lot to me. It's also still gonna be quite a ways to go.
> 
> I wanna just thank the person who tagged this fic as "this fic kicked my ass and ill never recover, catch me on the roadside five years from now sobbing bc something reminded me of this" too because that made me laugh a lot and I am super honored to have evoked such emotion. 
> 
> Warning for: references to deaths and also that nifty evisceration scene we had a little while back, mentions of mind control and torture

 

 

* * *

 

 

_You never learned how to trust your fracciónes- not truly, not really. It was something you realized years later when you were on the hunt for a Soul King in his palace and began to confide in all those strange people you met. Trust was more than just believing they wouldn’t kill you and you began to need it- always would once you first experienced it._

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello Grimmjow,” Urahara said and looked up from the map he had rolled out across the table. He was flanked by Yoruichi and Hirako. Behind him was a woman you didn’t recognize, leaning against the back wall. Something about her seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

  
“Good to see you are up and about now,” Yoruichi said cheerfully, “It must have been exhausting being stuck in there for so long.”

  
“You say that like it wasn’t you who put me in there,” you grumbled, “Not that I don’t get why you did it.”

  
No, they had explained that in great detail- how the infection could not be spread any further down here and how they had to make sure you were on their side before allowing you to walk around the ruins.

  
“How is your arm?” the woman you didn’t know asked. You watched her for a moment, took in the serene expression that hid a power you were sure you had sensed before.

  
“Do I know you?” you asked her.

  
She laughed and ran a hand through her long black hair. As it moved you caught a glimpse of a terrible scar on her chest.

  
“My name is Unohana,” she told you, “And if I remember correctly you were the young Espada I came across in Hueco Mundo when Aizen launched his offense.”

  
And you remembered her then- the one who had let you go.

  
“Oh,” you said and nodded, “Okay.”

  
“I am the current captain of the 4th squad,” Unohana continued, “And I am not your enemy. None of us in this room are as long as you stand against the Soul King.”

  
“Yeah, no, ‘m not gonna kiss that guy’s ass any longer,” you told her and saw the glint of amusement in her dark eyes, “So we’re good, then.”

  
“Indeed.”

  
You liked her. Pantera didn’t approve but your mind was set- the wasteland had thrown you back so far, had forced you into thought patterns you didn’t want. Step by step you would make your way back to where you had been.

  
It felt good to make up your mind, to decide upon uncertain things. It felt like a start.

  
“We brought you here because we would like to ask you some questions about what happened in the third assault,” Yoruichi explained, “Maybe some other things. Depending on what you feel is important.”

  
Something about the way she said it was off, as if she was telling you an inside joke that you didn’t remember. You picked up on the unspoken question in the way she looked at you, had spent enough time in her presence to know there was an expectation you had to meet.

 

* * *

 

 

_“A little higher,” Yoruichi said to Orihime who was regaining her balance after a kick, “You’ll want to aim for the celiac plexus, that can buy you a few seconds of time in a battle.”_

  
_You watched them train, sitting on one of the boulders in the underground training area. Nel was right next to you, dangling her feet and humming something soothing._

  
_“Yoruichi tries so hard,” she said to you, quietly, “I think she is scared we are not gonna be ready the next time we have to fight.”_

  
_You saw it too- because Yoruichi was quick-witted and poked fun at everything in her line of sight but that was not enough to hide all of the fears, the worries. In time there would be another fight and the more deeply she loved the stricter she was as a teacher._

  
_“Remember when Kuchiki got hurt fighting that Quincy?” you replied under your breath, knowing Nel would understand, “I think she’s freaking out thinking about not doing enough to keep ‘em alive.”_

  
_It was right there in the way she fought Orihime to help her improve- Yoruichi cared more than she wanted to let show and it scared her to the bone, had her grasping for every shred of power she could impart._

  
_“A little faster,” she told Orihime now, “You’re almost there.”_

  
_That’s what she always said. The one time a second decided on the fate on one of those she loved would be enough to warrant it in her head._

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay,” you said back in the wasteland, “So, should I just tell you all I remember?”

  
“I would appreciate that, yes,” Urahara answered.

  
Yoruichi glanced at him, back at you. You understood. There was something you had to keep to yourself at all cost, information that was better left a secret. All you needed was another hint, just a small pointer-

  
“The high-ranked Quincy your friends took captive refuse to testify,” she said, “So, really, just try and remember what you can, hm?”

  
And you knew what she was aiming at with a sudden clarity. There was only one thing she could mean, only one piece of information that the two of you had shared at one point. Right now you could not fully understand why she wanted you to do what you were sure you saw in her words.

  
“Cool,” you said and shrugged, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

 

_The day of the third assault was also the last day of summer for you. What it brought was a wasteland and all its horrors, the true continuation of the war the Vandenreich waged against your kind._

  
_Of course the victory in the Soul King’s palace had been too easy- but you wanted safety, you wanted simple happiness. And you got it, for a short time, with all your friends and those others you loved differently close to you._

  
_You awoke in Ichigo’s bed on that morning and didn’t find him there- it was worrying but you tried to believe in the hope you had, the hope that everything could be fine. It was the last day of summer, though, and the end approached._

  
_The house was empty and you looked around with curiosity- the two of you had decided not to tell his family you were trying out a relationship until you were comfortable enough. That meant you were not walking around the building very often; it was this day, ironically, that you could stand in their kitchen for the first time and see the flowers, the pictures on the wall._

  
_Ichigo was safety, he was a warm feeling in your chest when you fell asleep._

  
_Now he was gone and you stepped out in the street, found the sky bright and blue._

  
_There were the traces of reiatsu around and that was the first time the feeling of dread washed over you- something had happened. Something out of this world. You felt it in the air, then, in the wind and in the movement of the leaves._

  
_The pulse of power swamped the worlds with an intensity you could hardly stomach. It left you reeling and clutching your chest, a distant call to arms._

  
_You chased after it because you were scared for those you had learned how to care for, because life was never fair to you and fear ruled the world._

  
_That was how you got all the way to the bottom of the Soul King’s palace again. Step after step, Garganta ripping into the fabric of the universe with a ferocity you didn’t feel._

  
_There it was that you met-_

 

* * *

 

 

“I was too late,” you said and shrugged, looking away from their judging eyes, “I went there as fast as I could but all I saw was an explosion up at the palace and a lot of blood dripping down the damn walls. I felt their reiatsu up above, though.”

  
“Whose reiatsu?” Shinji asked, “Do you remember names?”

  
You had not spent a thought on this in years. It never struck you as strange you couldn’t remember details, your memory so full of holes there was no satisfying explanation.

  
“Kurosaki, Kuchiki, Orihime, Sado, Ishida, Aizen, Yhwach,” you said, shuddering, “That’s the ones I remember.”

 

* * *

 

 

_And they burned and they fell and they died because you were not fast or clever or good enough, because after all this you were nothing but a useless hollow shell of a friend._

 

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi took you aside as you left their makeshift meeting room.

  
“I want an explanation,” you said before she could ask anything, “I want to know what the hell is going on with you guys.”

  
“It’s complicated.”

  
“What the fuck does that mean?”

  
Yoruichi raised an eyebrow at your anger.

  
“I gave you the benefit of the doubt because you have yet to betray my trust,” she said, “But I won’t stick out my neck for you endlessly. That includes protecting your dubious Quincy friends.”

  
All this time you had assumed she told everyone she knew about Askin escaping the war alive- it seemed now that your assumption was wrong. You wondered why, why would she-

  
”We are not in agreement on how to proceed out here,” Yoruichi explained, “Kisuke proposed torture, you know. If they refuse to talk.”

  
You had seen the look in his eyes, the paranoia.

  
“You don’t agree?”

  
“Not necessarily,” she admitted, “I think there are other ways to end this conflict that don’t involve sinking to that level.”

  
“Even if more people die?”

  
“I don’t mind killing, y’know,” Yoruichi replied and shrugged, “But torture is not my thing. Especially if there’s reason to believe there’s something going on here, something behind the scenes.”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“One of the ones you arrived with mentioned there is a chance they are being controlled by the Soul King, all of the ones who are still loyal to him. I want to investigate that.”

  
“And Urahara doesn’t.”

  
She sighed, ran a hand through her hair.

  
“I can’t blame him for being paranoid,” she said, “He feels responsible for Ichigo’s death and wants to see all of them dead but-”

  
Yoruichi paused and twirled her hand in the air.

  
“Your friend, that Quincy,” she trailed off, “He reminds him of Aizen. That’s why I didn’t want you to mention your connection.”

  
“Do you think Urahara would’ve killed me if he knew?”

  
“I’m not sure. All I know is that we need to look at the bigger picture here and that includes considering the possibility that all of us are puppets to the Soul King.”

  
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” you snapped, “You trusted that guy with your life and now suddenly you are working against him?”

  
“I could ask you the same thing. The Quincy you protected is a slave to the Soul King now and you didn’t do anything about it, even though you promised you would handle that.”

  
You were taken aback and couldn’t hide it- it hurt to hear and in your head there were images you would not get rid of as long as you lived. A heart. Lungs. A throat and then less than one.

  
“I filleted his goddamn insides to get rid of his infection, what the fuck do you want me to do?” you snapped.

  
Yoruichi watched you closely. You weren’t crying but it hurt like hell. You hadn’t asked for any of this.

  
“You could have killed him,” Yoruichi said.

  
“You could have killed Urahara as well but I don’t see you doing that.”

  
You stared each other down, stubborn to the end.

  
“I still don’t think you are lying to me,” Yoruichi said after a long, calculating pause, “You helped us escape from those prisons and protected Ichigo’s sisters from what I hear. But this is about more than just trust. What made you even think of the possibility of a power that can control minds? Because your people said it was you who brought up the idea in the first place.”

  
There was an answer to that question that you knew you shouldn’t give.

  
“I am being controlled, too,” you finally voiced it, “Not right now, maybe, but I was when I was infected.”

  
Yoruichi was taken aback but didn’t break eye contact, stayed focused on the task, willing to solve the problem.

  
“How do you know?” she asked.

  
A deep breath.

  
”I did things I didn’t wanna do. Isolated myself, made it easy to be targeted. Didn’t rebel until it was almost too late.”

  
And it hurt to think of Luppi after all this time because you had been alone in all that time, bitter and vulnerable like a rat in a maze, pacing the same corridors in search of an exit.

  
Pantera let her spirit brush against yours without saying a word and you were grateful for her support.

  
Yoruichi frowned.

  
“You are sure that a power outside of your control is responsible for that?”

  
“It makes sense, right? For the creator of this shithole to have ultimate power over those inside it. Hell, maybe that’s what that Quincy emperor planned to do all along.”

  
As you said it you weren’t thinking much of it- but you could see her expression change as she considered the idea. The war against Soul Society had ended so easily, with just one human boy there to cleave the thousand-year old in half. That couldn’t have been it, you remembered thinking, that was too easy.

  
“That is an interesting thought,” Yoruichi said and it was the first time you realized that with all her doubts and teasing she took you serious, she respected you and considered your words. It was a good feeling- and one you tried to return in kind.

  
Pantera’s soul twitched and you wanted to ask what bothered her- but it had to wait.

  
“It was too easy to get rid of him, don’t you think?” you said out loud instead, hoping to connect the dots like this, out loud, word for word, “A dude who can see the future and he not only let one of his people leave right at the end but also just, y’know, allowed the rest of us to walk up and take him down.”

  
Yoruichi nodded slowly, tapping a finger against her chin.

“It was too good to be true, I agree,” she admitted, “I wonder how it is connected to this world, though.”

  
And you were so grateful that she listened at all that you had trouble following the train of thought- it had been so long since you felt any sense of hope in this place. Something changed, though, somewhere between cutting the leeches out of your flesh and ending up in these structures.

  
“I want to discuss this in more detail but-” Yoruichi paused and sighed, “I have to side with Unohana right now and hope Kisuke will come to his senses.”

  
You wanted to ask what would happen if he didn’t but you held back the comment. The respect you had for her was no longer grudging, not really.

  
“Just one more thing,” you said instead, shifting your weight from one leg to another, “I met your girlfriend out there. She was looking for you.”

  
Soifon wasn’t up there on your list of favourite shinigami but Yoruichi was; you regretted bringing it up immediately, however, as you saw her tense up.

  
“Was she alright?”

  
“She seemed okay to me. Bit angry, maybe. I think she had some kind of cloaking device and pretended to be a Hollow for a while. If Harribel was here she could give you details on that but I was a bit late to the party.”

  
It was not something you liked to think about, the other Arrancar and what might have happened to them.

  
_Nel_ , your mind supplied unhelpfully, brave and kind Nel who wanted to help you even when you pushed her as far away as possible, who tried to keep you and everyone else safe and was now somewhere out there in the desert.

  
Yoruichi gauged your expression carefully.

  
“Soifon was on her way here?” she asked after a bit of hesitation.

  
“I don’t know. She might have known about the layout of this place but we got thrown into a fucking wormhole to get anywhere close to it so-”

  
“So there’s no telling where she is.”

  
She finished the thought for you and you could see the cracks in the surface right there- just like Harribel, just like Ichigo and Kuchiki and all those others who put on a brave face because they were held to impossible standards.

  
_You can be strong and still be afraid_ , Sado said to Orihime once and you brushed it off at the time with no capacity to understand, _Feeling something is never a weakness_.

  
“Thanks for telling me, Blue,” Yoruichi said, smiling even though she obviously did not feel like it, “You little softie, you.”

  
“Well, uh, thanks for, y’know. Not telling Urahara about me and Askin,” you replied, shrugging and avoiding eye contact through it all. Gratitude and expression through words were still not your strongest suits.

  
She cocked her head, smiled at you with the confidence of someone who had no care in the world.

  
“I’m not interested in your little domestic drama, I want to make sure we know what we are going up against before we start torturing anyone.”

  
_Domestic drama._ It almost had you blushing against your will but the phrasing was funny at the same time- so you laughed instead, poorly covering up your embarrassment. A little too hysterical, not practised enough.

  
“I wanna try to talk to him,” you said, “I don’t know how much I can change, but, uh, yeah.”

  
Yoruichi did not look surprised, if a little unhappy.

  
“I tried already,” she informed you, “Talk to all three of them, I mean. Your friend’s vocal chords are too damaged for him to speak at all.”

  
_The flesh was soft underneath your metal claw._ _Tore like paper._

  
Yoruichi steadied you with a hand on your shoulder as you stumbled, faltered, tried not to throw up. It had never bothered you before, killing or hurting or-

  
“But that’s not true, you know,” Pantera said, speaking up for the first time in a while, “You changed before all this. You said you didn’t need that any longer.”

  
“I’ll see what I can do,” Yoruichi told you and it sounded like she was far, far away, “No promises.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“No promises,” Ichigo laughed, “But I’ll try and see how comfortable I can be with hugs. I would like to get used to that kind of thing again.”_

  
_You would also remember the sea of flames he vanished in. The smell of flesh burning high above the world. Then the touch of a cruel Hollow tearing the hair from your head. The pulse of an infected heart as you ripped it out._

 

* * *

 


	44. about the rain; about everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mention of bad control shit, stuff and things, mention of abuse, mention of panic
> 
> [this fic made it to 175 kudos can you believe]

* * *

 

 

“Grimmjow,” Pantera said to you, quietly, “We need to talk.”

  
“Well that sounds fucking ominous.”

  
She laughed but didn’t elaborate, her spirit beckoning you to join her in the inner world you shared.

  
“What happened to me?” you asked, “I don’t remember falling asleep or meditating or something like that.”

  
You stepped around a crystal in the ground, setting foot gingerly where she had walked.

  
“You had another panic attack,” she said, looking back, “Your body is alright, don’t worry. I thought it would be better to have this conversation now while you rest.”

  
It didn’t come as a surprise but you could feel the neutral mood you had plummet into terrible territories. Panic never came without the feelings of uselessness and hatred for not functioning properly, of course only intensifying the fear itself. You knew the cycle.

  
“It is not about functioning properly,” Pantera chastised you, “You have been subjected to things a lot of others would not have survived at all. I wish we were impervious to the effects of trauma but that’s not a realistic demand.”

  
It was not what you thought she would say, not with the kind of precedent she had set.

  
Pantera was about to start talking again as you let yourself drop to the ground, sitting down with your legs crossed.

  
“It’s fucking weird to stand around and talk,” you mumbled and patted the cold stone next to you, “C’mon.”

  
She was an ethereal creature of light and somehow still managed to give you a dumbfounded expression- it took her a few seconds to follow your offer, settle down on top of one of the spires in your inner world.

  
“What’s up?” you asked her, “What do we gotta discuss?”

  
Pantera clicked her tongue.

  
“I have been observing what happened to us for a while now.”

  
“I figured.”

  
“Don’t get snarky with me. If this was all fun and games you would not be having panic attacks in the first place.”

  
It sounded like an accusation and you tried not to be too visibly taken aback- to no avail, of course, because she knew exactly how you felt. Instead of passing it off, however, she-

  
“I’m sorry,” Pantera said and averted her eyes, “Actually, that’s the whole point of this and-”

  
She trailed off again. You watched her internal struggle unfold with morbid curiosity. Pantera assumed her usual form still, a tall otherworldly creature with blindingly bright hair and eyes, claws like your resurreción’s. Now she was fumbling with words and nervous like you had never seen her. A glance here, a glance there. So much more like a human than before.

  
“It’s been a while since we talked like this,” she decided to say after a while and first focused on you again, inquisitive, examining, “Your hair is so long.”

  
It was. By now you had gotten used to it falling onto your shoulders and down to the middle of your back; it bothered you in the beginning, an inconvenience in a hell of a place.

  
“And you’re very thin,” Pantera added, stroking her fingers down your shoulder, “I have missed out on a lot, blinded by anger.”

  
It was an apology and you took it like you had the explicit one. There was little room for grudges with someone who was part of your soul.

  
“Where is this coming from all off a sudden?”

  
It was a valid question, you thought, after receiving only negativity from her for so long. Fear stuck to her like a parasite.

  
Pantera closed her eyes. You didn’t expect her to lie down on her back on the edge of the cliff but that was she did- not defeated, just tired. Trusting you because after all, you _were_ the same soul.

  
“I spent so much time hating you for leaving me like that, out there in the sand with no way to move below the earth,” she said and sighed, “So much time wasted on blaming you when really, I should have questioned if you were in your right mind making that decision.”

  
“I did it so Luppi wouldn’t take you, to try and figure out shit about how this world works-”

  
“Did you really?” she interrupted you, “Because I think it is strange that you gave away the only reliable way to heal yourself in a condition that constantly harms you.”

  
It silenced you almost instantly, a weak sound dying in the back of your throat.

  
“Our resurrección could have healed most of your physical injuries, continually, especially with Segunda Etapa. You knew that. Or rather, you should have known.”

  
Pantera’s eyes were piercing and her stare unwavering. She was sure of this.

  
You remembered Luppi’s fingers tearing your hair out until the skin ripped and there was blood flooding your ears. You remembered waking up from a cruel dream only to find the flesh of your arm alive, working against you.

 

“I-”

  
“I was the only thing in this world you had to protect yourself,” Pantera said, “And you left me behind. Now you don’t even remember why, do you?”

  
The skin underneath your nails itched and wouldn’t it be funny, so funny, if you fainted in your own subconscious?

  
It all sent you back to how things used to be in the outskirts: you counted the seconds, followed the commands.

  
The cliff beneath your fingers was rough, digging into the skin. Marks, marked, _branded._

  
“There is more,” Pantera told you, slowly, “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  
You caught yourself chewing on your nails, clicking them against your teeth, biting your tongue raw. The realization came in waves; made you jitter, twitch, stare blankly into space.

  
_You are not your own._

  
“Tell me,” you said and caught her eyes, “I wanna know.”

  
She started to count.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_You met Pantera when you first received your humanoid form._

  
_Reborn by the Hogyoku you stumbled into a room with a bed in it, the one you were assigned to. White walls, white sheets, no bars on the window but a number on your back_

 _._  
_Somewhere out there in the corridors were your fracciónes, willing to assist and keep you up on your feet when all you wanted was a second to breathe, get used to having arms and longer legs and no balance, no balance at all-_

  
_“Calm down, child,” a voice said and it was inside yourself, an itch at the back of your skull._

  
_“The fuck do you want?” you snapped, out loud, into the room, “Who the fuck are you?”_

  
_They laughed at you._

  
_“I’m your sword,” they said, “You may call me Pantera.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Isolating yourself is one thing,” she said, “But you didn’t mention something I noticed when you spoke to Yoruichi Shihoin. The information we remember even though we shouldn’t.”

  
“You mean the method to escape the prisons?”

  
“What I mean is Bazz B knowing about your friend Orihime’s power when he never met her. The two of us remembering Cirucci dying when we were not around to see it at all.”

  
It was just flashes of the same pictures over and over- of her choking and dying like Shawlong, suffocating on a stone floor with nothing and no one around. It had just been there one moment, appeared from out of nowhere. More than intrusive.

  
“Is there more?” you asked, “Those could be just, y’know, a good guess and me freaking out.”

  
Pantera got up again and spread her long fingers over the side of your neck.

  
“Have you already forgotten what they made you do?”

  
Bloodlust. A will to hunt.

  
“You mean the Espada sending us after the potentials who were trying to get away? That had nothing to do with the Soul King or any possible control.”

  
Pantera smiled at you, a little condescending, a little sad.

  
“I could let that one go if I had not been there when you killed Luppi,” she said, “But did you never wonder why his power over you didn’t work in the one second he would have needed it?”

  
_You were faster than him and claws and vicious words, the sick smile on his face and nails stuck in your throat, you were too fast-_

  
“He died because he was allowed to die, not because we were suddenly strong enough out of determination,” Pantera continued, “I think the marks were there to give the Hollows a false sense of power. I think all of this was orchestrated by someone else. Someone like the one who created this world- for a singular purpose.”

  
You rested your chin on your knees, looked out into the crystal desert of your inner world. It was warm in here, not too hot, like an evening in that summer, your favorite time to remember.

  
“What purpose?” you asked.

  
Pantera shrugged.

  
“This world, I suppose. Isn’t that what your Quincy friend said on your way to the Soul King’s palace? That there is a world for the Quincy emperor to build after he enacts his revenge? Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what he made them wait for all those years.”

  
You thought of Bambietta and Candice, Askin and Bazz B; who all meant something to you now in the context of all this, who mirrored your situation with Aizen in an oppressive empire.

  
“Do you have anything to back that up?” you asked.

  
“No. It’s just an idea and it won’t mean a thing if it turns out the Soul King was your boyfriend all along.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Does that make you my boyfriend now?” Ichigo asked you and laughed at the look on your face, “Or is that too much of an obligation?”_

  
_“I don’t even know what that would mean,” you replied, faster than you hoped you could ever manage, “You gonna make me a list of responsibilities?”_

  
_“A chore wheel of boyfriend things to do.”_

  
_“Like what?”_

  
_“I’ll think about it.”_

  
_He pulled you against his side for something like a half-hug and you bumped your knuckles against the line of his arm. You felt more than saw him press a kiss to the side of your head, a few loose strands of hair._

  
_You had gotten so far- not only with him but with him, too._

  
_Ichigo was his own person, even now, even with the expectation of three worlds on him. It was never fair but he accepted it because that was how he had always been- one thing you knew you wanted to get into his thick skull was how to be just a little more selfish._

  
_“You can want things for yourself, idiot,” you told him once with your chin resting on top of his head, “Listen to your damn friends for once, Kurosaki.”_

  
_He laughed then. Kuchiki and Sado and Nel and Ishida would tell him the same thing- but old habits died hard or not at all._

 

* * *

 

 

“And the last thing,” Pantera said, almost casually now, “Is the counting, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

_A day, a second, an hour and more, three years of nothing and no one and-_

 

* * *

 

 

”You were unconscious a lot,” she explained, “There is no way you could have kept track of the time. It kept going on its own, without you, when you were not even awake.”

  
“That’s not-”

  
“It’s clever if you give it some thought. Pretend to give power to those who hunger for it, keep everyone you consider a threat subdued and in their place. You never left the outskirts, never sought contact with those you know you can trust. All of this can’t be coincidence.”

  
You stayed quiet. There was that same emptiness in your head you felt inside the layered worlds with the eyes of the Soul King on you. The sky back then looked broken, like the flayed edges of reality around a Garganta.

  
“All this,” you said and rested your forehead against your metal arm, “All this just fucking sucks.”

  
Pantera laughed.

  
“It does,” she answered, “It does suck.”

 

* * *

 

 

_You loved the sound of the pouring rain. If you ever stopped to wonder why it didn’t make much sense- it made those few humans you wanted around ill, soaked your clothes and hair. The leeches thrived on water, too, pretending to swim when all there was around them was flesh._

  
_But the rain was good to you, you always thought, rain from that unnaturally colored sky that only symbolized the end._

  
_It never occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, someone else wanted you to feel that way._

 

* * *

 

 

Bambietta sat in her cell, the same one you and Candice had woken up in. At first you thought she was sleeping with her head resting on her knees, back to the wall. It took you a while to see she was shaking, back and forth, back and forth, all alone.

  
You walked in and tried not to be too loud, careful steps with your weight on the heel of your boots. It was still not the balance you were used to, not with the metal arm at your side. Three years to get used to a missing limb didn’t suddenly vanish, just like the triggers in your head.

  
You cleared your throat, still a considerable distance away.

  
Bambietta didn’t react.

  
“Do you want company?” you asked her, a little too gruff, “If you can’t talk, tap the shitty prison cot thing twice for no and once for yes. Maybe. I’m bad at this shit.”

  
You waited for a while, trying to remember how it felt for you to get lost in the anxiety that bubbled up in the core of your being. Once more you wondered if your human friends would be appreciative of this- of you learning, finally, hoping to get better at these things.

  
Bambietta tapped the plank she sat on once with shaking fingers and you nodded to yourself. It wasn’t like you trained for this. It wasn’t like you had time to practice in all these years.

  
But you sat down next to her, as far away as the limited space allowed if only because you knew how constricting it felt for you to be like this.

  
“Candice is being interrogated?”

  
One tap again.

  
“Huh. Seems like there really is shit they think you guys know.”

  
You were talking about her and the other Quincy and hoped she understood that; it was on your mind the entire time now, the methods that Urahara proposed and how it would target all of them. _Torture._ You weren’t sure what that entailed or if there had been a time when you understood the reasoning but-

  
“They think we know who it is,” Bambietta said, very quietly, “The Soul King.”

  
“But you don’t.”

  
Two taps that made you laugh because, well, of course they didn’t know. Somehow no one knew, not even after facing the person themselves. All of it led you back to what Pantera told you. Something beyond what you could see.

  
“You think Askin knows?” you asked her, “Or, y’know, the other two?”

  
Bambietta sighed.

  
“They had me talk to them,” she told you, “All three of them. Something about them talking to their kin or whatever. Turns out, hey, that’s bullshit. They didn’t tell me anything.”

  
“So now it’s Candice’s turn?”

  
One tap.

  
“Figured.”

  
So it was something they did- send everyone who could possibly get them to talk in before they started using violence. You wondered if Urahara would stop at the three Schutzstaffel members or move on to the others, as well.

  
“Look I just-” Bambietta said and she shivered, eyes hidden underneath the cap she still wore, “I just want my best friend back and get the fuck out of here. Alive. With whoever the hell decides not to be a prick about defending this world.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Bambi and I were friends for over a century,” Askin told you and laughed as he did when he was pretending not to be affected by anything, be it time or grief or your poor expressions of affection._

  
_“But?”_

  
_“But at the end we drifted apart, I guess. Mostly because I felt her girlfriend, Giselle, was not treating her like she should. We fought over that, more than once. Sometimes I feel I should have done more but, well, you weren’t the first to call me a coward.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“You think the whole control thing is what’s really going on here?” you asked her.

  
“Then we should be controlled, too, don’t you think? All of us. And if that’s true then why is the Soul King even allowing us any sort of awareness of that state? It doesn’t fucking add up no matter how you twist it.”

  
“Harribel said he might be weakened right now, she said she could tell because the rain stopped. Maybe something happened. Maybe his whole thing is crumbling.”

  
Bambietta grasped at her side for a moment. Her fingers touched yours and she kept them there. Just a small friendly touch. It wasn’t you she wanted by her side, you knew that, but you didn’t think it could hurt to return the kindness she had shown when you experienced sensory overload.

  
“I want the control to be real,” she said and shivered so much you thought she was convulsing, “It’s all I want right now. I want things to be easy for once. I want to be able to break Askin out of it and end all of this.”

  
_Easy._

  
“Me too,” you allowed yourself to say for the first time, “Fuck. That would be freaking nice for once.”

 

* * *

 


	45. scattered

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi called the place you had been brought to a bastion jokingly, _a calm spot among the terrors prowling outside_.

  
Similar to the remains of Karakura town that you had seen in the wasteland there were parts of the Soul Society here, ruins and traces and those few prison cells that you had gotten to know so well. They were not even meant to keep you confined at this point- there were not many other places to sleep or get some rest. It was your choice to return there more often than not.

  
You wandered around the place with the curiosity of someone entirely detached from this world- nothing felt real to you, not the chill on your skin and not the imminent threats.

  
There were survivors, more than you could probably have hoped for, but not everyone was happy to see Hollows and Quincy alive when the main bulk of Soul Society’s forces were dead.

  
“It made sense, you know,” Hirako told you and shrugged with his teeth clenched so tight you saw the outlines against his cheeks, “Killing most of our captains first. Kyoraku, Ukitake, Kurotsuchi, Kenpachi- they didn’t make it for a day.”

  
You didn’t know many of them in the first place- they were the ones you saw as dangerous and never got close to. The captain who helped you years ago, Unohana, was a threatening presence now- her reiatsu reminded you of Harribel’s, of a storm, a force of nature.

  
Urahara scared you in a different way; you saw his wide eyes and constant paranoia, heard the plans he devised to get his prisoners to talk.

  
But there were people you trusted, people you had missed seeing out there in the desert.

 

* * *

 

 

Rukia Kuchiki still looked as regal and elegant as she had when you last saw her at Orihime’s place. A day in the summer, just a lazy afternoon you spent with your best friend and her girlfriend because life was easy like that and the world safe and sound.

  
You hadn’t been sure if it was the best idea to seek her out and even as you came across her that doubt was not entirely gone. The two of you had gotten along, of course, after you apologized clumsily and you fought a war together. However, that was largely due to Orihime’s influence- and she was dead and gone and somehow you were afraid of meeting her girlfriend out here.

  
_Survivor’s guilt_ , Pantera thought, _It’s not your fault._

  
“Kuchiki,” you said and inclined your head just slightly, a little too formal for your own tastes.

  
There was a second of awkwardness when she turned to face you and it was just the two of you, meeting in a derelict hallway in this layer of worlds.

  
“Hey,” Rukia said and you first saw the right side of her head. One of her eyes was missing- despite wearing a patch over the wound it did not entirely cover the edges of ripped skin. You knew the signs of infection all too well.

  
She reached up to her face, embarrassed, turning away. You had not meant to stare but your social skills had deteriorated considerably and thus you caught yourself a little too late.

  
“No-” you began and took a step closer, “Fuck, sorry, I’m terrible-”

  
Rukia hugged you and it knocked the air out of your lungs entirely.

  
“Don’t give me that sad look, Jaegerjaquez,” she told you, “I’ve had enough tragedy for a lifetime.”

  
You hugged her too and it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be- it was good that she initiated it because you would have been too embarrassed, too nervous in your skin.

  
“Glad you’re not dead,” you mumbled, “That would’ve sucked.”

  
Rukia laughed and let go of you; one hug was okay for you, just enough to convey you were still allies, still on the same side.

  
“Likewise,” she said and frowned, “Is your arm-”

  
“Got cut off and then they let leeches gnaw on the stump for a while. Your eye?”

  
“Same thing. I had to remove the creatures to save myself from certain death.”

  
It was a sobering talk to say the least- remembering that there were others out there who were so close to getting eaten alive by the leeches.

  
Giselle was still fresh on your mind; and so were Askin and what you did to him.

  
“Now, do you want to see what else there is to this place?” Rukia asked you and it reminded you that with everything that happened it didn’t matter you were not her best friend in the world- there were no ranks for her, no worse or less.

  
“If you got the time, sure,” you said, coughed, “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was more to this part of the world than what you had found on your own. Rukia took you up several flights of stairs that were hidden behind thin walls, led you through half-collapsed corridors. Everything was made of sleek white stone; reminiscent of the Soul Society but also Las Noches. Aizen had never thought of himself as anything close to your kind, had always taken care to distance himself from his subordinates.

  
_Slaves_ , Pantera supplied, _Nothing more, nothing less._

  
This was not Las Noches- you told Rukia as much.

  
“Have you been on the outside?” you asked her, “Like, in the desert part of all this?”

  
She shook her head and you could tell she wanted to ask about it, that world layered far above this. Her eyes shone and it almost made you laugh- as if the wasteland was a paradise and not the hellscape you ran from.

  
“It’s just a huge desert,” you told her, “With Las Noches in the middle, moving around every day. Most people tried to live close to it and those who appeared came from the outside. Was a piece of shit, all of it. Weird shadow creatures running around everywhere, lots of dying humans.”

  
“Like Yuzu and Karin?”

  
“Yeah. At least one of them was ill when I left.”

  
“Infected?”

  
“The other kind of infection, the one that didn’t use leeches. It looks like only some lucky bastards got parasites stuck in their body, y’know.”

  
Rukia snorted.

  
She was not wearing the traditional shinigami outfit you knew; you recognized her clothes as human ones, possibly some that Orihime bought for her. It was something she loved to do- show all you undead creatures what her world had in store for you.

 

* * *

 

 

_“We definitely need to make mochi ice cream,” Orihime said to both you and Nel, waving Renji to come closer as well, “I am sure you will love it!”_

  
_She told you about the treat while giving you small instructions, laughed at the thought of such a tradition being shared with a bunch of dead friends._

  
_To her it was a serious matter- just like taking walks and showing you sights in the city. Orihime loved to take pictures with all of you, as well, to keep them safely stored in her phone for days when she felt lonely. Rukia wasn’t always around and they had a life outside of each other- but you saw them together often enough._

  
_“This is the fun part,” she told you as she handed you a round cookie cutter, “C’mon, you try it!”_

  
_Orihime loved you and you loved her too; sometimes, in moments like these, you were confused just how good of a person she was._

  
_You were friends to the last day, supported each other. That didn’t change because you were in love with other people- these humans had spent enough time teaching you that platonic and romantic love were different in nature but not in value._

  
_“Am I doing this right?” you asked her, eyeing the slightly misshapen floured substance on the tabletop, “I fucked it up, didn’t I?”_

  
_“No, no, they look great!” Orihime cheered you on and laughed, “Don’t worry about it, we don’t need to have perfect circles for them to taste good.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I miss her a lot,” you blurted out, “Not a lot of other people here get it like you do.”

  
Rukia had taken you to a walkway that oversaw a lot of the space around the ruins- and it stretched out into the horizon, a plane of nothing but flat earth and blindingly bright sky above. It looked like someone started on but never finished it- an abandoned project.

  
In the distance you saw a constantly morphing mass of matter- like the surface of boiling water, like that weird gelatinous sweet Sado and Ichigo once introduced you to.

  
Rukia looked at you from the side but you didn’t necessarily want to meet her eye- what you said to her was a selfish thing.

  
“Yeah,” she said, “I suppose so.”

  
A moment of silence before she spoke up again.

  
“So you think they are dead for sure?”

  
“Their reiatsu vanished right in front of me and they never showed up here. Isn’t that about enough evidence?”

  
She sighed, stroking down the side of her green dress.

  
“I would like to believe all of them are somewhere out there,” she admitted, “Like Renji was. I never thought I would see him again, either, so perhaps there is still hope for the others.”

  
You hummed even though you disagreed- you remembered the third assault in detail, one of the few memories you were sure was not altered. They all died just out of reach, just up above. No fancy words, no monologues of overconfident villains. It happened and then it was done, just like that.

  
“My brother was injured but survived his journey here,” Rukia continued, “I suppose I should be grateful for that, as well. It doesn’t mean I will stop hoping for the others to be alive.”

  
“Yeah, fuck being grateful in this kinda place.”

  
She laughed for real and it made you strangely happy- because she had not changed much and was in a similar position; she understood.

  
“Are there more captains left?” you asked her, “I’ve seen a few but I bet they didn’t wipe out the entire top row, huh?”

  
“Hirako is alive,” she answered, blinking slowly as she tried to recount them all, “Unohana and my brother. There aren’t many left and some of them are busy keeping those creatures at bay.”

  
You nodded in the direction of the twitching shape in the distance.

  
“That thing?”

  
“Yes,” Rukia said, “It seems to be the same kind of leeches that infected the two of us. They appear to be sent here to eliminate us but so far we have not been overrun.”

  
Your stomach turned at the thought of the leeches hunting you and everyone else around here down- there was no metal arm in the world that could rip them out in time.

  
It sent a shudder down your spine.

  
”Yeah,” Rukia sighed, “I have been there, too, and I would prefer not to return ever again.”

 

* * *

 

 

You stayed away from the other shinigami as best you could and focused on checking on the rest of the residents of this bastion.

  
There were the three cells Urahara did not allow anyone to enter without his explicit permission- they weren’t labelled but you wondered which of them contained which Quincy.

  
“They don’t talk,” Yoruichi told you one day in passing, “Your friend can’t and the other two just speak in riddles. I have never been so mad at a disembodied hand before.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was a little pink-haired girl walking around the place, following a captain wherever she went.

  
“This is Yachiru,” Unohana told you as you asked who that lost child was and why it wasn’t dead yet, “She was Zaraki Kenpachi’s zanpakuto. Now she is here and he is gone. It is ironic he is the first of all of us to go.”

  
You remembered the captain with the spiky hair who craved fights more than you had even on the worst of days. Something about his eyes always reminded you of an animal during a blood rush.

  
“Are you going to take her in?” Yoruichi asked, spinning a piece of metal around in one hand, “I don’t exactly hate children, but I also don’t want them anywhere near me at all time.”

  
You silently agreed with her.

  
Unohana laughed.

  
“I am going to try,” she said, “I doubt Senjumaru will be very happy when she learns I took in a child, but she will have to live with it.”

  
“Senjumaru?”

  
You had heard the name before, just once.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I might not have killed their zero division personally,” Askin told you, “But I certainly assisted the Schutzstaffel. I doubt I would be able to take a single step into the Soul Society without being shot down.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Senjumaru is the one member of the zero division I managed to save,” Unohana said and carded her fingers through her hair, “She is currently out there, holding the swarm at bay.”

  
“They’re girlfriends,” Yoruichi whisper-shouted in your direction, not even trying to be subtle, “Don’t catch Senju on the wrong foot or she will sew your leg to your butt.”

 

* * *

 

 

Then there were Mila Rose, Apacci and Tesla, the few remaining Hollows who had no answer to your most urgent question.

  
“We don’t know where Nelliel is,” Apacci said, “Sung-Sun and Harribel were also not with us at all when we fell into that weird Las Noches wormhole.”

  
Tesla didn’t say much- it was strange to see him alive still; like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong place. Sometimes it seemed like he was not there at all, translucent at the edges and fading quickly. The wasteland had given life to some and was taking it back now- or that’s the only explanation you could think of.

  
You didn’t like to consider that something like that had happened to Nel- because you only just realized how much your isolation had affected her, too, how much she had wanted to help but couldn’t because you bit the hand extended towards you.

  
“Harribel isn’t dead,” Mila Rose wrote in the dust, “She isn’t dead.”

  
There was no wind in these halls so the message stayed.

  
_She isn’t dead_ was wiped away one day and you never found out who it was that swiped the dust with shaky fingers.

 

* * *

 


	46. anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp it's been a while, I apologize & all that jazz I was totally not busy at all and just procrastinated it
> 
> there is some more exposition coming so be wary, friends, be aware
> 
> warnings for blood mention I guess, there isn't much violence in here this time

 

* * *

 

 

The time passed slowly in the ruins and you lost your sense for it as it kept on ticking by. That didn’t mean the counting stopped, deeply ingrained in your head, a constant reminder that even if you could function you were not alright.

  
Pantera tried and you were grateful for it; she warded off harmful thoughts and spoke to you more than she used to.

  
“We need to work together again,” she said and sighed, “I accept responsibility but we have to look forward most of all.”

  
The dreams were still there, too- of a time when you were happier and no one had died just yet. It was difficult to believe those fantasies even in the depth of your subconscious, what with so many reminders of the time that passed.

  
There were the scars on the side of your head from where Luppi ripped out your skin; there was the feeling of your ribs sticking out when you pressed a hand to your chest. You hadn’t been this thin before coming here, had been allowed to grow softer in times of peace.

  
“You’re pretty either way,” Ichigo told you once and ran a hand through your hair, “But you look happier when you are chubby.”

  
Back then you huffed out a laugh into his hair, your chin on his head. Human concepts of what you should or shouldn’t be like had not bothered you in a long time.

  
Now you had starved yourself for years and while you could feel yourself recovering it would take a while, granted that no further catastrophe occurred.

  
“Knowing this world that isn’t very likely,” Candice said as you brought it up once, “But damn, yeah, that would be pretty sweet.”

  
The dreams, however, didn’t care much that you felt worse when you woke up. Sometimes they were all those good things you missed, all those choices you had been too uncertain to make; other times they were leeches and eviscerated bodies, eyes in the sky.

  
Above all it was your arm that served as a reminder that things were not like they used to be. It took you days until you could wake up and not flinch at the sight of cold metal attached to you.

  
Bazz B took the time to check on it sometimes, twist your metal wrist in all directions to see if your hierro started to keep it clean and mobile.

  
“You, uh, getting blood on it wasn’t the best choice,” he said and didn’t look at you, “But it looks like it bonded with your reiatsu properly and is not working like a piece of scrap anymore.”

  
The blood was gone now after they allowed you to clean up but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see it in the tint of the metal and the edge of your fingertips.

  
“It probably wasn’t optimal you had to use it for, y’know, evisceration immediately,” Bazz B told you in an attempt to cheer you up, “But you said it then and I’m gonna say it now: that wasn’t just useless cruelty or torture. He would’ve died.”

  
You knew that. The arm at your side still felt heavy.

 

* * *

 

 

Urahara wasn’t ready to share his plans with you at all and after the initial interrogation there was no other time you were invited to his illustrious strategy meetings.

  
“I don’t know what their endgame is, either,” Rukia admitted as you asked her and she frowned as if this was something she complained about before, “I know that Ichigo’s father is trying to get his daughters back. As for the others, well, they seem to be very determined to find out how and what happened to create this world.”

  
“And who’s in charge of it.”

  
”Yes,” she said and nodded, “Whoever there might be who wants this world.”

  
Renji was with her, too, sitting on the remains of a wall, dangling his feet. By now his initial cheerfulness had worn off- not that you could blame him, knowing the world he woke up in.

  
“No kidding,” he said, “You guys have any idea who it is?”

  
Rukia shrugged and slapped his shoulder when all he presented her with was a look of mock-disappointment. They had been friends for a long time, you knew that much.

 

* * *

 

 

_“They’re amazing people,” Sado told you as you asked his opinion on the shinigami you knew, “Rukia and Renji, that is. I can’t imagine a world where we are not close.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s one of the people who were in the Soul King’s palace when it exploded,” you said and it was one of the things you just knew- a stranger’s thought in your head.

  
Renji cocked his head. His long red hair swished around with the motion. It wasn’t the first time you noticed it was pretty.

  
“So that would mean-”

  
“Orihime, Ichigo, Chad, Ishida-”

  
“-Aizen or Yhwach,” you finished Rukia’s sentence.

  
They stared at you and you realized this was the first time you voiced these fears.

  
_What if it isn’t someone you can kill?_

  
For a moment you thought they would shout at you- because you were still an intruder, a little late to the party to throw these accusations around.

  
“I didn’t see much of the world outside, that desert you lived in,” Renji said, “Out of the three of us you’re the only one who knew what it was like, Grimmjow.”

  
“Do you think it’s possible?”

  
Rukia frowned but she listened, too, and you wondered how proud Orihime would have been of the two of you, respecting each other and working past all of the barriers history tried to force between your races. It still hurt to remember she was dead.

  
“I don’t know,” you admitted and the sinking feeling in your gut was back; not from hunger, not from pain. Fear, all over again.

 

* * *

 

 

Hirako listened to you when you proposed the idea to him.

  
“Hm,” he said and all his humor was gone out here, all the light-hearted teasing and sarcasm.

  
“It seems like an Ichigo thing to do,” he answered after a moment,”With the Hollows and Quincy somehow both in charge with a shared government. All those others, too, who just came back and died as if someone lost focus on keeping them alive. It’s like whoever created all this tried, y’know, tried and failed horribly.”

  
“Like they don’t know how to make their wishes reality,” you added and your mouth was so dry you thought it would bleed, “Ichigo wouldn’t do that. None of the humans would.”

  
“No, not intentionally and not because he is cruel or too weak. But we’re talking a world here. An entire fucking world handled by a single mind? Even the best of intentions couldn’t just do that with no negative side effects.”

  
Hirako sighed as he saw the look on your face and sat down.

  
“I will keep this idea to myself for now,” he said, “Maybe tell Yoruichi. I don’t think Kisuke would take it well right now.”

  
“He doesn’t seem like he would take anything well.”

 

* * *

 

 

If someone had told you before this mess started that one day you would be worried sick about one Quincy while spending most of your time around three others willingly- well, saying you would have been _disbelieving_ was an understatement.

  
“I mean this place blows,” Candice said, “But then every place around here has so far. Doesn’t get much shittier than a dystopian hell, I guess. At least the Silbern had air conditioning.”

  
“Did it?”

  
“Nah. Would’ve been cool though. Literally.”

  
Bambietta groaned as if the pun physically hurt her. Bazz B wasn’t paying attention to their conversation, instead twisting a piece of scrap metal into different shapes. A flower, a button, something resembling a crooked smiling face.

  
“I am not gonna make a dick,” he said just as Candice opened her mouth again, “I could but I’m not gonna.”

  
You saw her pout and wondered if they had been like this for decades- if Yhwach’s rule had brought these people closer together.

  
Aizen had never gotten the Espada to cooperate, not beyond the occasional coincidental shared interest. When he died the mistrust still remained; it lingered for longer than their grip on Hueco Mundo did.

  
These three made the best of a shitty situation, joked about it where they could and helped you out, as well. Perhaps this was a way to apologize, too; for supporting that empire, for prejudices and a war you all just happened to survive. It was enough for you.

  
The four of you were alone in a cell now, wasting time and waiting for any sign of progress, a way to go. Like this you were aimless; the doors open but there was nowhere to go, nothing to see.

  
“Y’know what,” Bambietta addressed you, “There’s a cool thing I didn’t tell any of those jerks out there because they looked down on us. Wanna know a secret?”

  
“Sure.”

  
There was a smile in your voice; a thank you, too, for this feeling of familiarity and a place to be.

  
Bambietta blew her hair out of her face.

  
“That swarm outside,” she began and frowned, “Some of them have the cross on them. Haschwalth’s mark.”

  
“He’s a bundle of leeches now,” Candice added, “Not that he hasn’t always been. Sorry, Bazz. He was a douche to me from the beginning.”

  
“I know you’re talking about me but I don’t wanna hear it.”

  
Bazz B yawned and rolled onto his side, turned his back on all of you.

 

“Talk to your next favorite Quincy,” he continued, “I’m taking a nap.”

  
You hadn’t spent much time thinking about it but being deaf and having to interpret what other people were saying had to be exhausting in itself- there was more to be said about it but you didn’t have the words or the sensibility. Sado would have known what to do.

  
Pantera curled around your consciousness like she did when she wanted to comfort you. You were no saint; seeing these friends together sparked jealousy in you.

  
_It doesn’t make you a terrible person_ , Pantera scolded you, _Don’t you dare beat yourself up over being sad. That’s the point of this, isn’t it? You have come so far by feeling, haven’t you?_

  
She laughed because the sincerity embarrassed you.

  
“So you think Haschwalth’s the Soul King then?” you asked to distract yourself.

  
“Nah,” Bambietta replied and leaned her head against the wall, “It just makes me think it really is Yhwach. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Quincy emperor putting his people in charge, controlling the living hell out of them-”

  
She trailed off, gestured vaguely.

  
Then she stretched her arms above her head, jumped back on her feet.

  
“Candy,” she said and winked, “Wanna go make out somewhere?”

  
Candice was on her feet in a second and saluted you before running off her with her not-at-all-girlfriend; they made you laugh, both of them.

  
It felt good to feel like this again, to see that your progress was not entirely unmade by trauma. You weren’t _destruction_. You could be anything you wanted.

  
Bazz B flinched as you sat down next to him and you wanted to apologize- he wouldn’t hear it, though. You put a hand on his leg, the metal one.

  
“Jeez,” he said and laid his head on the plank again, “You can stay but if you scare me again I will kick you in the nuts.”

  
He tilted his head in your direction and caught what you said- it embarrassed you, a knee-jerk reaction.

  
“Yeah I don’t have any either,” he told you and shrugged, “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick you.”

  
It made you laugh. There were so many people just like you.

  
You stayed close because you craved company now, almost as much as you had when you first started allowing yourself happiness.

  
“Yes,” Pantera assured you, too, “That’s what you really feel like. Not distance. Not isolation. You don’t want to be alone.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So what exactly is the plan here?” Rukia posed the question all of you who were left out of the loop had.

  
You accompanied her, trailing behind Renji and Bazz B who also decided to come along. It was strange that only so few people in this layer seemed to know what was going on; so you went to Yoruichi and Hirako instead of Urahara.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
Yoruichi seemed confused.

  
“What are we doing in this place? Where are we trying to go?” Rukia asked, “I understand the short-term goal is to keep the swarm at bay, but in the long run that is not going to change our situation, correct?”

  
Silence.

  
“Kisuke didn’t tell you,” Hirako stated. There was no telling what he was thinking; a blank expression, a vacant stare in his eyes.

  
He looked at Yoruichi who mirrored his silent concern. It seemed obvious to you what was going on here.

  
“You tell us, then,” you said, “If we should have known all this time.”

 

* * *

 

 

“The layers are not consistently stable,” Yoruichi explained to you, resting her chin on her hand, “We realized early on that some places seem to have… thinner connections to dimensions below or above.”

  
“Like that place we fell through?”

  
Renji’s question was similar to your own thoughts- that hole that opened up atop Las Noches seemed like too much of a coincidence.

  
“That’s how we moved on at all,” Bazz B said, “We can sense the spaces where the fabric is the thinnest and then breach through.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Bambietta stumbled, coughing, pressing a hand against her neck as if her lungs were giving out. She looked ill, doubled over like this._

  
_“You okay?” you asked her._

  
_Her powers had ripped a hole into the world like so many others before but it came with a price; Candice was bouncing on her heels, nervous and desperate to help out. They took turns using their power._

  
_“It’s fine,” Bambietta rasped, “I just need a short break, just a minute-”_

  
_She collapsed into the sand and kept on coughing, spitting small amounts of blood into the sand._

  
_You let Candice hug her close but knelt down next to them to offer support; you had tried to use your Garganta but it had no effect on this world._

 

* * *

 

 

“So we are following the trail of those weak points?”

  
Hirako shrugged. He tapped his fingers against the stone wall, kept on looking over his shoulder. You wondered who or what he was scared of- or maybe it was just the paranoia that came with being in a world like this.

  
“Nothing better to do, I guess,” he said, “But no, in all honesty, we believe the Soul King is hiding on the innermost layer. So if we ever want to get out our best bet is to keep going deeper inside those layers.”

  
“Why do you think that?”

  
Rukia was sceptical, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  
“Senjumaru of the zero division can track traces of reiatsu, link them like she would her threads,” Hirako said, “That’s what she did with all of you who encountered the Soul King before, especially those with the infection. The traces all lead to the same spot.

  
You scoffed. The thought of a shinigami taking samples of your power while you were not aware of it did not sit right with you.

  
“So why are we staying on this one for so long? It has been weeks,” you butted in even if you had no idea how much time had passed. The timer in your head was not reliable anymore- nonsensical strings of numbers that did little more than piss you off.

  
“We have located this layer’s weak spot already but-”

  
“It’s in the middle of that swarm,” Yoruichi finished the sentence, “Which makes us think that this one is important, you know, if it is so well-protected. Currently we are trying to figure out how to weaken this world’s Soul King so that any possible attack is not a suicide mission.”

  
“Is there a way back up?”

  
“Not that we know of. It looks like this is the furthest layer down before the core and there is no second weak spot.”

  
Bazz B did not seem satisfied with that answer at all. It wasn’t a good thing to hear; you were trapped down here. Many of the ones you cared for were still further up, still out of reach. Nel had no Quincy with her to dig through the layers. The thought alone had your heart seize in your chest.

  
“But we ran into the Soul King on our way down here,” you spoke up again, remembering the panic and the fear and the confusion.

  
Hirako gave you a sympathetic smile. You appreciated that they did this at all; took their time to explain things to you all now instead of postponing it further, sharing this information to work towards a common goal.

  
“As far as the two Quincy girls told us they were not following a clear line- it seems that you accidentally took the wrong turn at some point. Which would also explain why the swarm is here now, preventing us from repeating the same thing,” Yoruichi explained and sighed, “It’s a hassle, really. Fighting a faceless enemy on his own turf. Not that I don’t like a challenge but it does seem very imbalanced.”

  
You sat down on the ground in the small room with your back against the wall and tried to make sense of all she said; there were so many uncertainties still, so many questions.

  
Most of all, though, you wondered who it really was who ruled this world. Over and over again, the same doubts and fears.

  
_They said it is Haschwalth in there. The Quincy are in charge. Ichigo wouldn’t do this. Orihime wouldn’t do this. Sado wouldn’t- They wouldn’t do any of this._

 

* * *

 


	47. something borrowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings! nothing all that mean in here. ships, though. lots of them.

* * *

 

 

It turned out that Rukia had not known about Renji and Bazz B; she was equal parts offended and curious.

  
“How did you keep that a secret from me?” she asked with her arms akimbo, almost pouting, “And _why_?”

  
Renji stuttered out a few non-committal phrases. He turned as red as his hair and stumbled over his words, trying in vain to communicate in gestures instead. It was something Ichigo had done too when he was embarrassed.

  
Rukia’s eyes softened and she sighed.

  
“Well, we have a lot to tell each other then,” she said and took his hand in hers, “I will try and be a better friend this time around so you will feel comfortable telling me.”

  
Watching them hug was always great because of their height difference; it didn’t seem to bother them, though.

  
“You want me to go?” you spoke up. In these days you usually tried to spend time around people you knew but with them having a talk like this you didn’t want to intrude.

  
Renji waved in your direction, dismissive.

  
“Don’t worry about it, man,” he said, “I overshared during that whole palace run already, I don’t mind if you know.”

  
You snorted, sat back down, got comfortable. The way he told stories was fun but also difficult to follow sometimes; because Renji got excited at parts and skipped details.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh god,” Bazz B said the next time you met him, “He told you something. What did he tell you?”

  
It was difficult to keep your grin down and you stopped trying at some point.

  
”He told me how you met.”

  
“That is not an embarrassing story. Why are you laughing?”

  
“I like the whole bridal-carrying you to safety thing,” you said, “But no, that wasn’t it. He told us about the grilled cheese incident.”

  
Bazz B took a moment longer than usual to decipher what you said. The blush was not easy to spot with his skin tone but you noticed it, creeping into his cheeks and up to his hairline.

  
“I tried to forget,” he said and laughed nervously, a little too loud.

 

* * *

 

 

_“So after I found him out there in the palace I brought him to the ground level together with the other few who survived,” Renji explained to you, “Captain Unohana healed them in the prisons but they were still considered a threat, even if some of them helped us.”_

  
_“You sound super biased,” Rukia butted in and smiled, “I can’t believe you had a crush on someone who complimented your eyebrows. That’s so you.”_

  
_You agreed quietly._

  
_Renji did not fall for the provocation and instead continued his story a little indignantly._

  
_“I visited B once because they wanted me to try and get some information out of them. So I went there, y’know, on official duty and I thought I would be done in a few minutes, an hour at most. Well, turned out, he had a lot to talk about and I was the first one who would listen.”_

  
_If Orihime had been here at this time she would have gotten that look on her face- slightly glazed over and her eyes sparkling, absolutely focused on the story and its conclusion. Rukia had a similar expression right now and you huffed out a laugh. It was a good feeling, a familiar one._

  
_“Like, they were betrayed,” Renji continued, “They were recruited into the empire and with an emperor who sees the future for all of them and no place to go it must have sucked, really. So yeah, he ranted at me for a while, apologized and asked questions in return. It was nice, I dunno. I forgot the time.”_

  
_It had been a new feeling for you too- listening and being listened to._

  
_“So then we made it a habit and that’s how it happened.”_

  
_“What, no details?” Rukia asked and elbowed him in the side gently._

  
_“We took walks and stuff when he was allowed to. And I tried to cook for him once and managed to fuck it up royally.”_

  
_“How? What did you try to make?”_

  
_“You see-”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I remember he tried to text me, too,” Bazz B told you and put a hand in front of his face, “I love him so much but every time he adds a winky face thinking it is smooth flirting I die a little on the inside.”

  
Renji did that a lot, even outside of texting, even in a world like this. Of course he was not always this cheerful but he tried to keep his friends happy and laughing, tried to be the dork he wanted to be no matter what the world was like.

  
You wondered what you would have been like in the wasteland had the Soul King not taken over command.

  
“I can be your huckleberry,” Renji said once when you just so happened to be around and then he winked.

  
Bazz B’s expression didn’t change. He blinked once, twice.

  
“I have no idea what you just said,” he answered, “I tried so hard to read what just came out of your mouth but there is nothing. Zero things reaching me here. Was that something rude? Are you calling me names?”

  
“No!” Renji protested and he was blushing, “It was a cute thing- kind of- I mean-”

  
“That’s exactly what someone who just called me names would say.”

  
“I swear, it was just-”

  
Bazz dropped his mask of fake anger and laughed out loud, raspy and coughing. Then he reached up and kissed Renji’s cheek, then the other one.

  
“Whatever it was,” he said, “I bet it was a terrible and cheesy thing. I love it.”

  
They kissed and honestly, them being together should not have come as such a surprise to you. Renji had made it clear enough he had a crush on one of the captured Quincy.

  
You couldn’t really judge them and their bonding over eyebrow appreciation- your first encounter with your crushes had not exactly been classy, either.

  
_There was punching involved,_ Pantera commented dryly, _Both times._

  
You thought something rude back at her, fighting the heat rising to the tip of your ears. Punching had never equalled flirting for you but it was ironic in hindsight.

  
They were happy, though, Renji and Bazz B and you didn’t mind knowing that. There was jealousy, of course, that they could have such a thing when you couldn’t, but that was the smaller part of you. There wasn’t much to be happy about still; the little things were what you got.

 

“I miss being with Orihime, as happy as Renji can be right now,” Rukia admitted to you when her friend was nowhere around, “But it doesn’t mean I have to try and ruin things for him, too. No matter how much it hurts, I won’t try to take someone else’s happiness in this world.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Rukia and Orihime’s story was one you knew- one you watched as it unfolded because in the war there was little privacy. As it ended Orihime continued to visit and spend time with you, made you laugh and listened to all you had to say, practiced her fighting with you and let you try her many creative culinary masterpieces._

  
_“Chocolate sprinkles can go on everything,” she told you, “In curry, on steak, in ramen-”_

  
_You tried whatever she had with her and whenever Rukia was around she did, too- with varying results. As a Hollow you had made do with a lot of things so you were not very demanding, especially when it came to foods with spices that were entirely new to you. Rukia however had to excuse herself at times because she was turning green; Orihime’s apologies were plentiful and loud._

  
_She told you about the dates they went on, too, about the shops they visited and the things they saw. Your phone was always full of pictures as if she knew that this meant the world to you. Some dogs here, some place she wanted to show you, too._

  
_Rukia took a while to get used to you even after your awkward apology- but then again you never expected her to be civil with you at all. Stabbing her had been driven by bloodlust and the fear of shinigami hunting you down if you weren’t quicker than them._

  
_But she began to ask your opinion on things, sent you a stick figure drawing of a Hollow with crazy hair with no caption at all._

  
_They were happy together, too, so happy even with the difference between their worlds. Rukia had her duties and worked hard to become a captain one day too; Orihime had human decisions to make, a future to choose._

 

* * *

 

 

There came a time when you couldn’t find a single person in the bastion when you awoke in the prison cells. It reminded you too much of the day of the third assault- so you hurried around the empty stone corridors, jogged up the stairs to the upper floors to get a good look at your surroundings.

  
There was no weather out here, no sun and not the rain of the wasteland. All you saw was sky, endless and ominous as it changed color. With no signs of the time passing- because how could it if there was nothing to measure it, no shift in nature around you- there was no telling how long you had been here at all. It brought back the fear that all this, all you had managed to snatch up in this dying world, was gone again.

  
_Nononono, not again, not with the few fucking things that were left-_

  
You arrived on the top of the walkways above the ruins in no time. Now that your power was slowly returning you could run like this again without feeling faint, could use your reiatsu to a larger extent. It felt good but you only noted it in passing. It couldn’t have taken the duration of one rest to wipe them all out, they were stronger than this-

  
And there was a spark of spiritual pressure in the distance, calming your nerves immediately.

  
Out there on the empty plane you saw the swarm of creatures; still pulsing, still menacing. However, this time they were not left on their own out there.

  
Pink petals spun through the air in a storm of flowers, cutting into the unshapely mass and keeping it at bay. They danced around each other, a vortex with a person in the middle. You had seen this before once in the war, the shinigami in his cage with a million blades around him.

  
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  
You flinched, hadn’t noticed the person approaching you at all.

  
Unohana, if you remembered correctly.

  
“I did not mean to sneak up on you,” she said and smiled, “It comes with the nature of my power, I suppose.”

  
You had seen her heal before but her expression, that calm unwavering confidence spoke volumes. There was more to her than just healing powers- something more cruel, even more so than the swarm of leeches approaching the bastion.

  
But you remembered her as if not a day had passed in the wasteland; the shinigami who could have ended your journey so abruptly before it even began- yet she didn’t. She let you pass, let you move, let you live. This close to the end of things you were not seeing it as pity anymore.

  
“Did something happen?” you asked and felt so young asking her such a question, “None of the others were inside, the cells were empty-”

  
“Many of them offered to help us fend off the onslaught,” Unohana answered the question you weren’t sure how to ask.

  
_Are they all gone? Again?_

  
“So why wasn’t I drafted for it?”

  
“One of our newer Quincy guest was very adamant you should get more rest. Bambietta, I believe? She made her case quite clear, I thought her argument was very convincing.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“You need to rest,” she told you and frowned, waving Bazz B closer for support, “Bazz, you’re the mom friend, tell him to take it easy.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“What’d she say?”

  
Unohana laughed.

  
“She reminded me of the symptoms of your latest panic attacks. I don’t mean to intrude but if I understood her correctly then you have been subjected to physical and mental abuse for several years. There is merit to letting yourself rest.”

  
You nodded, looked away. The embarrassment burned in your cheeks- this entire world was privy to your medical record and it left you exposed, vulnerable.

  
“Why aren’t you down there?” you asked her instead, trying to change the subject, “Don’t they need a healer?”

  
Her lips twitched.

  
“They might need a healer when they are done,” she said, “But unless the situation turns extremely dire my powers are best not spent on these creatures.”

  
And there it was again- the feeling of horror from beyond the abyss, of a power you could not fathom with your small Hollow mind. You took a step backwards instinctively, out of her range.

  
Unohana’s demeanour changed almost instantly.

  
“I apologize,” she said, “Grimmjow, was it? I am not entirely used to being alive again. These aren’t empty threats aimed at you or any of your allies, I have long since stopped killing for my personal gain.”

  
The way she said it made it clear to you that she was not joking at all; she had killed before and not just occasionally. Flashes of memory sparked in your head; of carts filled with corpses, mountains of blood.

  
Another step backwards.

  
You bumped into someone and wrenched your head around as quickly as you could. It was a bad idea to turn your back on Unohana, you knew as much. Still, you had a hunch that if she wanted you dead she could get rid of you with both eyes blinded and her limbs chopped off.

  
“Are you scaring this poor lil’ Hollow?” Yoruichi asked and patted your shoulder, “Don’t worry, Blue, Unohana might be scary but she has also become a pacifist lately. If anyone in this world is going to give you a fair chance no matter what you do, it’s her.”

  
“You flatter me,” Unohana answered and bowed her head politely, “Your arrival is a sign that everything is going well?”

  
“It is. We’ve got things under control. Turns out those Quincy kids can be helpful with the right orders.”

  
Just as she said it thunder cracked through the air. There was no time to debate whether it was irony that it happened now; a portal appeared in the space between your current position and the swarm, purple around its edges and spitting out whatever it had in its clutches.

  
You recognized the sight- it was what had taken you from Las Noches and brought you deeper into the layers of this world.

  
The smile on Yoruichi’s face melted like ice in the sun. What it was replaced by was fear, confusion, disbelief.

  
You saw the body falling down onto the plane later than she did but you knew who it was just by her reaction.

  
“Soifon!” Yoruichi shouted, proving you right, vaulting over the side of the walkway, “ _Soifon_!”

 

* * *

 


	48. at the cliff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted two chapters today so make sure you read the last one too if you jumped straight to the newest!
> 
> warnings for some violence and me exchanging last chapter's cliffhanger for this one lmao

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi hit the ground far below and started running with no delay at all; you saw the flashes of reiatsu below her feet as she broke her fall.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Is that Shunko?” Orihime asked and leaned closer, extending a hand toward Yoruichi’s shoulder where the flames of her reiatsu burst out of her skin._

  
_“I told you, I could teach it to you one of these days when we have the time. Soifon and I could, that is. Girlfriends who teach dangerous techniques to humans together stay together.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Unohana did not jump off the same way; she used her flash step to move a bit more gracefully, floating through the air like a wraith descending for its victims.

  
You followed them, keeping your eyes on the portal. It was too much to ask for more lost people to follow Soifon through the layers- you understood Yoruichi’s reaction because it could have been Nel up there, falling like a bird shot out of the air. Of course their feelings for each other were different; not like family.

  
The portal closed and no one else passed through it. You swallowed your disappointment, kept on running.

  
“Soifon!” Yoruichi cried out again, without care for anyone else in the world.

  
Soifon smiled before she collapsed from the strain of travel between the layers, her small body crumbling onto the ground. She wasn’t bleeding from what you could see.

  
“Soifon!” Yoruichi called out again and knelt down next to her, cradling her unconscious form, “Oh fuck, what happened-”

  
You hadn’t seen her lose composure often and this was by far the most severe outburst of emotion. She wasn’t crying yet but seemed close to falling into hysterics; because someone she loved was fading away right in front of her.

  
“Healer’s right behind me,” you told her, “Won’t take long.”

  
Yoruichi didn’t respond. You didn’t need her to, either way; it just reminded you that she was a person, too, despite her incredible strength and attitude.

  
Her hands were shaking so much that you were not sure she would be able to hold onto her girlfriend for much longer.

  
“That was one hell of a ride,” Soifon muttered and it was the closest she had ever gotten to swearing in your presence, “I tried-”

  
She coughed; then she grinned, suddenly, carefree and mischievous.

  
“I knew I could find you,” she said and laughed, happy as the chime of a bell, “I knew it.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Are you dating that captain?” Nel asked Yoruichi during one of their impromptu training session in the middle of the war zone. They clashed once, jumped away from each other, ready to turn and attack again._

  
_“Soifon and I have a complicated history,” Yoruichi answered, smiling, “There used to be a power imbalance between us and she still has a lot of that internalized even if she won’t admit it. That is not the basis for a functioning relationship.”_

  
_It changed, too. You only picked up on some parts of it, some instances where they worked as equals and managed to laugh, too, instead of that earnest respectful facade._

  
_“We’ll work it out,” Yoruichi said, “Eventually.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Unohana approached you from behind, gently pushed you to the side to step closer to the one who needed healing.

  
She unsheathed her sword in one fluid motion and turned its blade horizontal, swept her palm over its flat side.

  
Tendrils of a dark, gooey material began to reach out from its edges, toward Soifon and her injuries. It looked like she was summoning something; a creature you didn’t know how to describe, another ancient beast on the ocean floor.

  
You shuddered. It wasn’t cold at all.

  
Yoruichi had calmed down by now; she was still tense and ready to bounce, always on the edge of her heels.

  
“Grimmjow,” Unohana addressed you and did not point out that you flinched, “We can handle this. Perhaps those few fending off the swarm could use your help.”

  
It was a welcome suggestion; you had felt like you were intruding anyway.

  
“Sure thing,” you said, “Gonna make sure they don’t screw things up.”

  
You left them behind; wondering, forever, if Nel and Harribel were still alive.

 

* * *

 

 

Rukia and her brother were fighting in synch; flowers and ice working in harmony and shielding their allies, striking where it would hurt.

  
“Do you think our Segunda Etapa still works?” you asked Pantera and got nothing but a vague reply, the psychic equivalent of a shrug.

  
So you tried; closed your eyes and thought of a crystal landscape, a fight in a palace far above the world.

  
It gathered in the core of your being, that feeling of _revolution_ because that’s what it was, every time. Harribel’s Segunda Etapa was imposing but you knew yours was not defined by its strength; you could damage your opponents, of course, but Pantera and you worked with speed and agility. Faster, faster, behind enemy lines.

  
There were a thousand targets for your claws and they all reminded you of the torture you received; more leeches, right in front of you, a wall of them, an army.

  
It didn’t scare you; for once you were grateful for that anger that remained part of you. It was not a bad thing to feel when you knew how to use it- and at what moment.

  
Moments like these were born for this and you spun around to keep them at bay, slashed across their bulk so that they could never return.

  
It was a good feeling. A little like recovery.

  
“You still need to tie that hair up,” Abarai shouted at you from the side and laughed, “How do you see anything like that?”

  
“Then stop fucking offering me something you ain’t giving me,” you yelled back, “Where are those damn hair ties, huh?”

  
He laughed and it was almost like it had been back then; that time of changes, of progress.

  
You caught what he threw at you instinctively even though you had not expected him to actually deliver.

  
“Thank me later!” Abarai said and grinned, falling back to help Bazz B on his side of the fight. They fought well together, too, choppier than the Kuchikis but no less effective.

  
Bambietta and Candice were there, too- on your other side, covering large areas with a hailstorm of lightning and bombs. They could handle themselves for a while.

  
You stepped back, twisted the ribbon in your hand around your hair and pulled it up. Orihime had taught you how to do this- she had been eternally fascinated with the mass of blue hair you possessed in your resurrección. There wasn’t a day you didn’t miss her.

  
Then you were back in the fight, cutting into the swarm with the blades on your arms. They couldn’t reach you anymore, not here and not now, not after coming so far.

  
And you had- back then, before the Soul King got into your head and forced you into isolation, before all that you had made so much progress. It was a violent thought, a feral need to recover all of that, to return to who you used to be.

  
The leeches died before you, one after another. Of course their onslaught did not stop just because you joined the battle; but it cleared your head, calmed your heart.

  
You weren’t going to die here.

 

* * *

 

 

“There is something you should know,” Yoruichi said as you were about to pass her by, trying to respect her privacy. She was still not okay.

  
“It can wait, if you don’t wanna talk right now-”

  
“Soifon met Nel.”

  
It shut you up immediately. _She’s alive-_

  
“Where?” you asked, “How? Where is she now?”

  
Yoruichi pressed her lips together and the nervousness was still there, quieter now. It rested right there in her tightly-knitted eyebrows and her uneasy posture, in the movement of her eyes and the twitching in her fingertips.

  
“I don’t know the details yet,” she said, “I will ask more as soon as I can but she needs rest for now. All she told me was that she met the Hollows and Nel stayed behind to protect someone.”

  
It sounded like her; ever the protector with her head as stubborn as her horns made it seem to be.

  
“Thanks,” you replied even if that was not the answer you had hoped for, “You should go back to her, shouldn’t you?”

  
Yoruichi nodded and the sarcastic reply you expected never came.

  
The wasteland weighed on all of you- every last one, every living thing.

 

* * *

 

 

As you returned to the bastion there were people waiting for you right at the entrance. Unohana was with them but so were Urahara and a woman you had never seen before, tall and carrying herself with regal confidence. There were spindly arms on her back, skeletal and restless. The look in her eyes was distrustful and piercing, focused on you like a spotlight. You had no idea what you had done but the feeling of unease sky-rocketed, setting off alarms in your head.

  
“Yes,” the woman said and inclined her head in your direction without taking her eyes off you, “It is him.”

  
You didn’t panic as kido wrapped around your torso, binding your arms to your body and keeping you in place. Fear was not your immediate reaction; maybe because Yoruichi was still around, a few others who cared whether you lived or died.

  
“What did I do?” you asked, trying to stay calm. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach, pulling you towards the ground and quickening your heart rate.

  
“Grimmjow, this is Senjumaru Shutara of the zero division,” Unohana told you and her voice was calm, inquisitive, “During that battle right now she picked up on some… interesting readings of your reiatsu.”

  
“He is an Espada,” Senjumaru commented, looking you up and down, “It would make sense, in a way-”

  
“Interesting how?” you interrupted her and didn’t miss the spark of fury in her expression. It vanished as quick as it had risen, like a flash of lightning.

  
Urahara took a step closer to you. The way he examined you made you think he thought of you as nothing but a research object. Something to be studied, dissected-

  
You wanted to move away but couldn’t and there it was, the fear, bright and early.

  
“The more power you used the less the reiatsu signature felt like your own,” Unohana explained to you, still civil, “We will have to try and find out why that is.”

  
“Who?” you asked immediately and your throat was dry, “Whose was it?”

  
They looked at each other, silent, debating whether or not you should know.

  
Senjumaru rolled her eyes, blew on her fingernails.

  
“What’s the point in pretending we don’t know?” she asked and the arms on her back twitched like the stinger of a scorpion, ready to strike, “You have the reiatsu of Aizen Sosuke, Espada.”

 

* * *

 


	49. Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cool words this time, just me and my weeping over the nice comments I still receive y'all are so nice to me
> 
> oh also, like, if any of you still dislike askin at this point I am just ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ at the next billion chapters y'all
> 
> warnings for: cannibalism, some gore, mention of injuries

 

* * *

 

 

_Aizen was weak as you approached but still conscious, wheezing and shaking like a fish thrown on land. A second of understanding passed between you, a wordless exchange._

  
_You laughed because wasn’t that ironic? A familiar image, a familiar presence. There was a hole in his chest where the Hogyoku used to be- almost as if he was a Hollow, too._

  
_Memories did not make Aizen’s skin as hard as steel. Memories did not poison his flesh or stop you from biting and tearing. In large amounts the metallic taste of blood began to turn bitter, the flesh around the bite wounds soppy and squishy. It was the soul you wanted so you had to dig deeper, break open the ribcage and eviscerate him. The bones stuck out like wings sprouting from the chest._

  
_Aizen had been in pieces before you found him; clawing his way towards a part that looked like legs, fingers alone dragging his weight across the sand. There was no telling how far he had gone like this. How many hours it had taken to get to this point._

  
_His soul was mellow and wavered with uncertainty_

  
_Without water around you had to lick your finger clean; your tongue felt cold against the heated skin._

  
_You wondered if the taste was different because you knew him, had known him for a long time._

  
_Later you would tell the Kurosaki twins that ‘it wasn’t Aizen’ up there in the sky- because he couldn’t be, not with his soul gone and part of you._

* * *

 

 

 

“You what?” Urahara asked, completely baffled.

  
Hirako laughed as if he had never heard anything funnier in his life, doubling over and wheezing until he was completely out of breath.

  
“You ate Aizen,” he said and there were tears of laughter in his eyes, “You just- you just ate him.”

  
“I devoured his soul, yeah,” you confirmed. The memory was so far gone from your mind, so far back in the story that you had not remembered until now.

  
_Or maybe it’s another thing you are not meant to know,_ Pantera suggested. It was a possibility.

  
“But how did he end up out in that world anyway?” Hirako wondered out loud, “If he was in that explosion and the third assault.”

  
You didn’t know. You were restrained and scared that any second that they could cut out your soul so have the stronger one embedded in it.

  
So far, what they did was theorize and nothing else. You didn’t trust the quiet.

  
“Maybe the Hogyoku is a part of him now,” Urahara suggested, “Maybe the reason he managed to escape was because it honored his wishes and kicked him out of whatever state he was in.”

  
It was a strange idea and an even stranger time to propose it; but the longer you thought about it the more it stuck to you. This world was weird, had always been, so could you really just brush it aside?

  
The other’s looked at Hirako who just shrugged. His personal history with Aizen was difficult, you knew as much. He had not shared the details with you but he never seemed like a person to be open about his personal secrets.

  
Now he continued because he seemed to be on a track towards a conclusion, inspired by something undefinable.

  
“And he ended up dying in the desert with no way to put himself back together because they can’t exist without one another now?”

  
“That would mean the Soul King’s power comes from the Hogyoku,” Senjumaru added slowly, “He can morph this world and control it how he wants it because it is literally his creation. That is not an impossible thought, not with the ambiguous nature of these areas. Some don’t seem to make sense, right? As if this was a dream all along.”

  
“Or someone’s failed attempt at running an entire world,” Urahara said and you could see that he had the same suspicions you arrived at a while ago.

  
Your throat felt tight.

  
_They wouldn’t-_

  
“So maybe Aizen being gone is the reason why we could move on and act like we did?” Candice spoke up, “We just went through the layers without being stopped. Maybe losing that part of his souls weakened the Soul King?”

  
You listened to their theories and tried to piece the puzzle together by thinking back to those moments. Even in your panic you had picked up on small things.

  
“Or he is trying to get Grimmjow closer to get Aizen’s soul back,” Yoruichi said, “I would not put that past him with how he attempted to kill his own people for their strength. Now and before.”

  
“That would explain why we ended up on his layer in the first place,” Bambietta mentioned, a little excited now, “He wanted us there. He wanted to kill Grimmjow and recover. It made no sense we were able to get so close to him just because of some stupid coincidence.”

  
It didn’t help your anxiety in the slightest. All it told you was that there was something wrong inside of you again, just like the leeches, something else that had to be taken out. Remembering your own pain and what you had to do to save Askin you didn’t think you could stomach something similar again.

  
“So does that mean there is a chance to further weaken him using Aizen?” Hirako asked. Practical, thinking of the future.

  
“Actually,” Isshin said, trailing off for a second before picking up the thought again, “Do you think he has other souls? Or consists of others?”

  
“Are you saying-”

  
“I’m saying what if we were right?” he continued and the hope you heard was desperate, “What if it’s Yhwach but it’s also Ichigo and Orihime and all those who were around. It’s not too unlikely if Aizen was there, right?”

  
So far he had seemed relatively composed whenever he talked about things that affected the entire world- but his love for his children was bleeding through now.

  
“We don’t know that,” Urahara replied, “Nothing of this could be real. If the Soul King wants us to think there is a way to fix it maybe it would really end up helping him.”

  
“So what do we propose we do?”

  
“I don’t know. If we separated Aizen from Grimmjow, perhaps the Hogyoku would return to him. That would limit the Soul King.”

  
The thought made you shudder because you could imagine how he wanted to take the soul from you. A clean cut. A single slice.

  
“If it works,” Yoruichi said.

  
“Do we really have a lot to lose at this point?” Isshin asked, “We’re stuck in here, the enemy’s at our doorstep and half the people I know are dead. We have to do something.”

  
“This could backfire on us. Horribly.”

  
Her voice was firm even though you could see the sympathy in her eyes. She had cared for these dead humans, too, wanted to believe they could be saved.

  
“This could also turn out to be what we need to leave this place,” Senjumaru spoke up again, “It is an interesting thought, at the very least.”

  
It sounded like the words of someone who had spent too long in a world like this and was willing to consider any possible way out of it. You could relate no matter how much her disdain for you angered you.

  
“We can’t do shit without knowing what lies beyond that weakpoint,” Yoruichi replied, her voice sharp now, “If we do all you proposed and end up dying on our way to the Soul King then it’s all for nothing.”

  
Her eyes flitted to where Soifon was resting. She had only just got her back.

  
“So we need to find out for sure what is behind there,” she added and sighed, “Before we decide on anything stupid.”

  
“How do we do that?”

  
It was the first thing you said in this discussion and they seemed surprise to see you were still around. Caught in their little world they had not had time to remember you as a person. Only as a vessel for a soul worse than yours.

  
“The prisoners,” Urahara said and didn’t blink once as he stared you down, “Isn’t that obvious? When they talk we will know.”

  
You saw the obsession in his eyes, the desperate wish to find a truth he found convenient and a way to make up for his failings. So many had died. He still scared you.

  
“If they tell the truth,” Unohana reminded him and stroked her fingers down the outer side of the bastion, “They might want to lure us into a trap instead.”

  
Urahara raised his voice.

  
“I already told you, if you follow my suggestion there is no way they would lie. No one lies through torture.”

  
“Do you hear yourself?”

  
“I hear myself as the voice of reason. There might be no other way to solve this.”

  
It sounded like something they had discussed before. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know- he was out for blood. You wondered if he was influenced as well, if someone spoke through him.

  
“You sure you don’t wanna kill them because it would help the Soul King?” you said out loud and didn’t regret it, “Because wanting ‘em dead would help him if it really is Yhwach, y’know.”

  
Urahara did not get angry as you said. He smiled at you instead.

  
“No one said anything about killing them, Grimmjow."

 

Your blood ran cold, so cold.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I will do whatever’s necessary to win this war,” Urahara said and his voice was more earnest back then, less avid for slaughter. That came later, with so many burning and vanishing in another Soul King’s world._

  
_“What the fuck does that even mean?” you asked him, “You gonna wait till they are busy ripping the rest of us to pieces and then strike? Is that the damn opportunity you’re waiting for?”_

  
_Yoruichi held you back, a palm pressed against your shoulder._

  
_“Down, Blue,” she said but it was not as teasing as you expected; she looked concerned then, too, as if her trust in her friend was not quite enough to drown out the suspicions anymore._

  
_“Kisuke,” she said next and frowned, “I’m with you on this, I want to see Yhwach die as much as you but-”_

  
_“But?”_

  
_“Nel has voiced similar concerns,” Yoruichi explained, “Antagonizing those who are here to help might not be the best idea.”_

  
_“Oh, but I’m not antagonizing anyone,” Urahara replied and back then he might have even meant it, “I am just stating a fact. The end will not always justify the means but sometimes there are only so few ways to solve something. Niceties will not get us anywhere with the likes of Aizen and Yhwach.”_

 

* * *

 

 

The first time you saw Unohana fight you knew that you had reason to be wary of her and her strength. If other reiatsu were sparks of light in the darkness of your inner vision then hers was a chasm of it, a blinding, unsettling force.

  
Her power itself felt almost organic; however, it was just a little too twisted, like an arm bent at an unnatural angle.

  
What she summoned from her zanpakuto were strings of blood, clinging to the blade of the sword and stretching down to touch the ground. The dark red liquid was tough as molten lava, like congealed blood dripping from a gutted carcass.

 

She lifted her blade towards the sky and the leeches fell, at once, a violent torrent of small corpses. Their blood returned to Unohana in streams, leaving them as nothing but empty shells.

  
She let her sword soak it up; it drank the blood with inhuman greed, pulsated in her hands and you wondered how often they had done this, how many she had to kill to get to this point.

  
The other one, Senjumaru Shutara, aided her in battle with needles that drew the power straight from the source; it was a gruesome display. Fountains of blood rained from the sky where they crushed and butchered the creatures and then fed from their corpses. An irony, really; the life force sapped from them like they did to so many others.

  
“They’re scary,” Rukia commented and pointed towards the two shinigami fighting alone against a million enemies, effortless, “But I think scary is just what we need right now.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Shawlong and the rest of your fracciónes treated you like their god. It felt good, so intoxicating. You were so young back then, barely crawled your way through Hueco Mundo for a decade. They worshipped you; but it felt strange to call it that, shameful even. Back then embarrassment still set your world on fire. One spark, one flame. You burned like a match and wanted to see the world turn to cinders with you._

  
_The way they spoke to you with reverence was flattering to you even though you pretended to be irritated. You never realized that their admiration also meant distance; it always also came with alienation._

  
_You weren’t close to them, not emotionally or physically. Sometimes you wondered if that was what they wanted- if they had the feral Hollow urge to devour you. The idea of them wanting you sexually never crossed your mind; not back then, not with death around every corner and the urge itself unfamiliar._

  
_“We will follow you wherever you decide to lead us,” they said, not in unison, but they might as well have._

  
_You got high on the praises and the recognition, let the violence they praised be the primary motivator in this place. Later, when they were dead and you began to change, slowly, the thought made you uncomfortable. Every last of their words was there to encourage you and keep you on the path you chose._

  
_When you told Orihime as much later, asked her if it was ungrateful of you to doubt them now, she smiled._

  
_“Friends are not friends because they agree with everything you say,” she said, “Sometimes looking out for someone means helping them change and grow and improve.”_

  
_She hugged you and you knew that your fracciónes would never have done this- they never got close to you, thought of themselves as something lower than you. It wasn’t their fault, either, it wasn’t as easy as that. You had nothing to give because you never learned how; they stoked the anger in you._

  
_“We’ll follow you everywhere, king,” they said and you ate it up as if that was the only thing in the world you ever needed._

  
_They were not your friends; you didn’t know how to be friends with anyone in that desert._

 

* * *

 

 

It was later that you learned how to be with others, how to care for them and be cared for in return. It was more addicting than even the hunt for power; wanting to find a use for that heart of yours.

 

* * *

 

 

_Askin smiled more the longer he was with you._

  
_“Aw,” he said as you hugged him for the first time, “I am not good at these things so-”_

  
_“You can get better if you practice.”_

  
_“Oh?”_

  
_You blushed and were glad he couldn’t see it like this._

  
_“If you wanna,” you added, “Hugs are pretty good, y’know. Once you get used to them.”_

  
_He laughed and hugged you too, a little more careful than you would have. You were warm and comfortable and happy, so happy, your heart felt like it would burst in your chest._

  
_“You’re so sweet,” he said and stroked his hand down your back, “The sweetest of them all.”_

 

* * *

 

 

So you went where you shouldn’t in a quiet moment, sneaked past the guards and into the prison cells. You had to. You couldn’t wait.

  
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” you imagined Askin would have said and you could see the remains of his throat move through the strips of flesh, his neck cleaved wide open. The imaginary version of him wasn’t wrong- your thoughts were sad, confused maybe, but fond nonetheless.

  
He said nothing because he couldn’t, because his vocal cords had not survived your claws. Below there was no movement now, no leeches feasting on his infected insides.

  
You took a step closer and watched him tense as if he feared you would go and rip open his chest again.

  
“Do you know who I am?” you asked him quietly and felt like a stranger in your own skin. A sting in your chest. You wanted so many different things.

  
Askin nodded. His hair hung limply into his face now, black with a few strands of white. The crusted blood flaked and it looked like his skin itself was falling like snow. Your fingertips tingled, a phantom touch.

  
“Well that’s a freaking delight then, isn’t it,” you said.

  
Askin laughed- or you thought that’s what it was, judging by his expression.

  
He started coughing again. Wet noises, red blood on his lips. The weariness finally showed on his face again; edged into the lines on his skin, the path his scars had taken.

  
Apart from that he stayed silent, of course. He blinked at you slowly, leaned into his shackles. He was chained to the wall, sitting on something like the prison cot you woke up on.

  
“If you don’t want me here I’ll go,” you said, “I hope you get why I did it, though.”

  
You gestured vaguely at his injuries.

  
Askin closed his eyes, curled his lips into a smile. Black with dried blood, bitten so often they were nothing but open wounds. The unhinged arrangement of bones that was his jaw twitched as if he was trying to grin. The lower half of his face was still filthy with gore.

  
For a while he just gauged your expression. You wondered what there was to look for- what signs or hints.

  
Then he shook his head, slowly, and jerked it to his side. An invitation.

  
It was more than you had hoped for if you were honest with yourself; imagining this scenario you had never gotten this far. In your mind there was no solution to this- no easy way out. There was that dream you had, of course, where things were good and choices clear to see. A touch, a word, a gentle thought.

  
You sat down next to Askin on the uncomfortable metal plank. The surface was rough beneath your fingertips- the ones that could feel, at any rate.

  
“They wanna torture you,” you said, knowing it was not the best icebreaker in the world by far, “If none of you three talk.”

  
A hum. He expected this, awaited it with an emotion you could not fathom.

  
“But with the way things are going the Soul King’s gonna fuck you up worse than these people ever could,” you told him, “The leeches and all. I know what that shit’s like and it isn’t gonna get better from there on out.”

  
There was little worse than creatures feeding on you from the inside, stripping you of your pride as you crawled in the dust with the ache growing stronger.

  
There was more to say but Askin coughed again and this fit was more violent than the last, forced him to double over. He flinched as you put your hand on his back- you moved it away immediately as if burned by a hot stove.

  
“Look, I’m not the best person to go around lecturing you,” you said after a moment, “So if you don’t wanna listen to any of that jazz, can you at least use your damn head and consider you are being used?”

  
He wasn’t looking at you at all, his eyes fixed on the door you had come through, anything that wasn’t you.

  
You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall.

  
“And if you aren’t-” you began and swallowed thickly, “It isn’t too late to change your mind, y’know.”

  
His breathing was raspy before but it turned into wheezing as he tried to laugh.

  
“Fine, I’ll shut up about that then. ‘s for the best for now, probably.”

  
You looked over at him and his mangled excuse for a neck. The bleeding had mostly stopped but you still saw his spine and the beginning of his ribs where you tore his chest open.

  
The air rattled through his open lungs as he coughed. It still confounded you how he was alive, every breath spraying blood into the inside of his mouth. A remnant, a stain, left behind on a bloodied shackled throne.

  
“Y’know, maybe I’m the one who made all this shit up,” you told him and it was something you feared with all your heart, “Like, right now I think you’ve got the false memories but maybe it’s me. Maybe I imagined all of that.”

  
Your anger had burned so bright because the shame had, too, for trusting him so much. Like you didn’t know better. That second he spoke to you and you punched him was the first time he ever even acknowledged your presence in the wasteland.

  
“I’m not into mindgames and all that jazz,” you said, hoping it meant something, “I’m just kinda tired of the drama and the shitty fucking situation. So yeah, you probably think this is some weird trick. Messing with your head or something. I’m really not that great at that sort of thing.”

  
Askin didn’t laugh but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, just for a second.

  
When you wanted to continue he stopped you, a hand on your arm.

  
He tried to write and his fingers didn’t obey him entirely- the nerves in his arms were damaged.

  
The shaky scribbling was barely decipherable, Latin letters so convoluted it took you several minutes to make out the words. Another set of letters beneath them was completely indecipherable- a different language entirely, as if he hoped you could read at least one of them.

  
Written in blood.

  
You stared at him, at the message he was trying to convey.

  
“What do you think happened?” it read.

  
So much doubt in those few words. He listened, though. For now.

  
“Look,” you began and shrugged, “Like, I get it. It’s fucking scary, not knowing what the fuck is going on. But if that fucker got into my head he could have just as well gotten you too.”

  
He looked skeptical. You counted it as a victory that he didn’t laugh it off. Sarcasm was his primary means of defense, if he just considered-

  
“Then why can you recognize it?” the writing on your arm continued.

  
“I have only picked up on it recently. I don’t know why but the Soul King is weak right now, so I think his control over the ones who aren’t infected anymore is fading.”

  
“Is that a fact?”

  
“We were able to cross the layers down to this because of it, right? You should have seen it on your way here, too.”

  
Askin didn’t continue writing, watched you with hooded eyes.

  
“The rain stopped in the wasteland. You have gaps in your memory. And then you’re losing time, aren’t you?” you continued and met his stare the entire time, “That’s what he did to me, too, sort of. I had a timer in my head, a constant counting that continued on and on. If he wants you to die then he’s putting that thought into your head. You’re too-”

  
And you stopped yourself because you sounded desperate even to your own ears. Askin watched you with a guarded expression.

  
“You’re too clever not to have suspicions,” you growled and looked away, “I’m shit at reading into all of the subtle stuff but I know you’re not, you over-analyze everything. Even if you don’t give a shit about what happened before-”

  
The pressure of his fingertips on your arm shut you up. Spidery touches, choppy because of the injuries.

  
“What happened before?” it read, “Tell me.”

  
Your heart lurched in your chest as if it had a mind of its own and your eyes searched his face for any sign of humor, any indication this was just a trick. You didn’t find it. He was tired, too.

  
Askin and you flinched in unison as the door was flung open and you had to turn away.

  
Two shinigami in foot soldier’s clothes dragged you out before you knew it. All you managed to do was wipe the messages off your arm- leave no evidence, leave no trace. But-

  
_No_ , you thought and tried to twist your neck to look back into the cell in vain, _I almost-_

 

* * *

 

 

 

_At some point, during one of his strange visits and stranger talks, you realized you were thinking of each other as friends._

  
_Askin was fun to be around, even if his sincerity was often overshadowed by sarcasm- you were similar like that. He didn’t consider you less of a person because you were a Hollow; it was a good feeling, from the beginning right to the end._

  
_“Why’d you talk to me of all people?” you asked him once and couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. So, so nervous. There were answers you wanted him to give you, in secret and whispered voices._

  
_“Hm, I wonder,” Askin replied and laughed that quiet laugh that you learned was rare._

  
_You didn’t like to remember it when you awoke to a wasteland he chose and you hated. Kill the immortal, deal death to him like a bad hand in a card game. Or so you thought._

  
_“My past doesn’t matter,” was what he told you during that strange summer, “I’m from a different part of this world, either way. All I could tell you is something about debt and wealth and those ungrateful, unhappy noble families. It’s a boring story.”_

  
_“You sure? Sounds like a lot of drama.”_

  
_“Says the undead cannibal spirit.”_

  
_Teasing. Never an insult. He smiled to make sure you knew._

  
_And there was that feeling of betrayal too when you saw him back among the ranks of the Quincy, that feeling of I-trusted-you. I-cared-about-you. Still do, you didn’t think. Never. Always._

  
_“I don’t understand you,” Askin told you at some point and you were sure you were missing something, anything, to make sense of it, “Well, I suppose wanting to is an arrogant ambition, anyway.”_

  
_Then he laughed and changed the subject, asked for your opinion on a trivial human matter, something you never thought of on your own._

  
_“What part of the world do you mean?” you asked him, “I don’t have a damn clue where I used to be from.”_

  
_Askin tapped a finger against his chin, looked up as if he was deep in thought._

  
_“I don’t actually know what you call it these days. Aden was what it used to be called in English, I think? Bambi and I came from roughly the same region but that was over two centuries ago.”_

  
_Sometimes you forgot some of his people were so, so much older than you; not that it mattered to the dead. You didn’t count the years._

  
_What you did was listen, intently, so intrigued by another world you had not paid attention to before._

  
_You ‘hung out’ with him, as Yoruichi had called it with a twinkle in her eye. You weren’t sure she knew who it was you were meeting._

  
_Askin wasn’t as much noise as some of the others, wasn’t as kind as Orihime or as genuine as Sado. Different._

  
_He was close to you, though. As close as he allowed himself to be._

  
_You did nothing terribly exciting- took walks in the middle of the night with no particular destination in mind, got strange and cheap human food together. With no one seeing you in the world of the living Askin even dragged you into a movie theatre at some point._

  
_“I’m glad I met you,” was something he told you, despite all the pride and hesitance, “Look at us, defying all those expectations.”_

  
_A smile. Sometimes, when you were like this, you wondered if he was going to kiss you, reach out and go that extra mile. He never did._

  
_A sting in your chest._

 

* * *

 


	50. at last it breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are a few chapters strewn across this fic that are kinda short so I apologize for that, there will be longer ones too (bc I talk about Askin a lot, it's a thing, it happens)
> 
> chapter 50!!!! look at this, we've come so far I never thought it possible
> 
> warnings for character death, some violence, some more leech horror, some meanie things

* * *

 

 

Urahara’s anger did not start out quietly.

  
“So this is the part I have been missing,” he said as you were hauled in front of him like a disobedient puppy.

  
“The fuck is this supposed to be?” you snapped back at him, “You gonna execute me now?”

  
His eyes narrowed to slits and he took a step towards you. For a second you thought he was going to do it then and there- a stab through the eye with a sword, a lethal shot of reiatsu to the brain.

  
Yoruichi entered the room before anything close to that happened and it made you feel better immediately- not only because you liked her, but also because she was less expendable than you. Hirako and Isshin Kurosaki followed her. There was another person with them that you didn’t immediately identify, a tall black-haired man with the composure of a stone statue.

  
_Kuchiki number two_ , Pantera reminded you. He looked around the room, saw no immediate threat and left again as if you were beneath him.

  
They seemed not quite as surprised as they could have been. Urahara had been unstable long enough for them to anticipate such a situation.

  
Or maybe, you thought, maybe it was you they expected to break and wanted to take out now.

  
Unohana joined the others but she did not walk in from the outside; she came from the cells too, just moments after you left them. You wondered if she had been there to heal or torture- if maybe your little stunt had already cost Askin his life.

  
She looked at you in passing but you couldn’t tell what it was she had done. Her power scared you to the core and you didn’t want to think what it would do to a living person-

  
Yoruichi met your eyes and you felt better. Her expression mirrored yours- agitation, confusion, poorly hidden anger. Not at you, though.

  
“What’s going on here?” she asked, louder than she probably had to.

  
Urahara glanced over his shoulder but immediately focused back on you.

  
”Grimmjow decided to have a private chat with one of our Quincy prisoners,” he said, gesturing towards the door you had come from, “He was a little too familiar with him to convince me they have not met and interacted before. I am in the process of finding out the true story behind -”

  
“I’ll tell you,” you barked out, wrenching your arm free of the hold you were caught in, “I would’ve told you right away if you weren’t so goddamn fucking paranoid.”

 

* * *

 

 

_The third assault happened even if you didn’t know its name at the time. Arbitrary letters assigned to a vague event no one remembered- no one but you and those close to the Soul King’s palace._

  
_Ichigo was up there; so were Sado, Orihime, Ishida, Aizen and Yhwach. They died up there, all of them,and you still had no idea why or how._

  
_You were dashing over rooftops and through Garganta to get to the palace fast enough to reach those whose reiatsu you could sense up there._

  
_It appeared in all of the worlds at the same time; a floating fortress in the sky. A sign of the war you all thought ended half a year ago._

  
_Down below, at the foot of the palace, you met Askin._

  
_“What’s going on?” you shouted at him from a good distance away, “You okay?”_

  
_He didn’t turn around to face you; he was looking up at the buildings hovering far above the two of you._

  
_You came to a stop next to him, tried to get an idea of what he was thinking._

  
_“Hey,” you called out and cocked your head, “Do you know what happened to-”_

  
_“I don’t know anything,” Askin laughed and it was far from happy, “Except that it’s too late now.”_

  
_“Too late for what?”_

  
_Or that was what you wanted to ask. The explosion up above shook through the two of you, sent you reeling on the rooftop and sliding down the side of the human house._

  
_The reiatsu above you vanished; the entire clump. From down here you saw fire, you saw blood._

  
_Then you fell._

 

* * *

 

 

“You worked with them,” Urahara said, “You helped them during the war. Why?”

  
“I helped Askin,” you replied and shrugged, “Because he wanted to leave their empire and gave me info on the ones we still had to fight.”

  
“You let that one escape and gave him the chance to rally his troops against the Soul King at the end of summer. What makes you think it wasn’t him who led the third assault in the first place?”

  
You remembered what Nel told you, too, how the only common explanation for Askin returning to the Sternritter unscathed was how he got them Ichigo’s head on a silver platter.

  
Pantera curled around your thoughts again, helped you calm.

  
“You don’t know that,” you said, “That’s just a theory. It might as well have been you.”

  
Urahara was about to lash out at you, you could tell; the look in his eyes was violent, hurt by your words. There was little left of the controlled intelligence, he ran on guilt out here.

  
“Kisuke,” Hirako stopped him with a hand on his arm, “I don’t trust any of them either but torturing the truth out of them won’t bring Ichigo back.”

  
You shivered, twitched, hurt.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hey, can I ask you something?”_

  
_Orihime looked up, surprised. She saw your nervousness and you could feel her mood shift immediately, saw how she steeled her expression to make you feel comfortable and not as if this was a weird thing to do._

  
_“Of course you can,” she said and patted the space on her floor next to her, “What is it?”_

  
_You sat down, shifted around a little. Scratched the back of your head. Shifted again._

  
_“Can you be in love with two people at the same time?”_

  
_Orihime’s eyes widened for the fraction of a second. The feeling of shame was a hot prickling sensation on your spine, a tearing in your gut._

  
_“Is this-” she began and cleared your throat, “Are you and Ichigo having problems?”_

  
_You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed. It always made you blush, too._

  
_“Nah,” you said after a while, “We’re okay. Great. Better than I thought, way fucking better.”_

  
_“But…?”_

  
_“There’s someone else, too. No one you know, though.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Yoruichi sighed.

  
“Grimmjow’s friend, that Quincy,” she said and frowned, “I knew about him. I kept an eye on him in the time between the war and the third assault, he never used his powers to an extent that could have helped anyone of his old compatriots.”

  
Urahara spun around to face her and suddenly you were not so sure their connection would keep him from attempting to hurt her. Not that you believed he could.

  
“Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

  
He wasn’t shouting; or at least his voice wasn’t raised to that level. There was betrayal in it, though, a lot of things you had not expected to hear from him. He used to be composed, calm- but it was all gone now, fell from grace together with the burning remains of those he failed to protect.

  
_It’s not his fault for being too late_ , Pantera mumbled, _But it isn’t yours either, Grimmjow._

  
“So what?” you said and you _were_ shouting, “Are you gonna kill us all now?”

  
“I never talked about killing,” Urahara replied, not turning in your direction, “What we need is information, at all cost. There is no other way out of this and I will not sacrifice more people for these Quincy.”

  
“How about-”

  
“You had your chance,” he interrupted you and the calm demeanour was scarier than the wild-eyed feral anger, “All of you. We don’t have the luxury to wait any longer or attempt to get somewhere with niceties.”

  
“That is the kind of talk I would expect from Kurotsuchi or Aizen,” Yoruichi commented, “There is no guarantee taking these three apart would even give us any valuable information.”

  
Urahara looked at her with a cold expression- he was offended, surely, but he swallowed it down.

  
“You lied to me,” he told her, “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.”

  
Condescending; and a personal insult as well. They were friends, had been for a long time- they knew how to hurt each other.

  
“What are your plans?” Hirako asked from the side, looking wary. Unohana was quiet, Isshin had his arms crossed in front of his chest and watched the proceedings.

  
Urahara unsheathed his zanpakuto and knocked its hilt against the door twice. You had seen the weapon before. Perhaps it would have been better if you had taken it all those years ago.

  
“The plan I devised,” he said and put his free palm on the blade, “Relies upon the ability of my Bankai.”

  
You rolled your eyes and turned away.

  
_They are_ , Pantera began and composed herself, _They are so high and mighty. Believing they are doing the right thing when they repeat their enemies’ mistakes._

  
“You’re going to use your Bankai on these prisoners?” Unohana asked. Her voice was quiet and yet everyone in the room heard her- she was the first person in a while that scared you with just her presence. The fear was mixed with awe, though.

  
“It will work, won’t it?” Urahara replied, “You know what Benihime is capable of. They will talk if they know anything.”

  
“I agree with you on many things, Kisuke, but I will not let you tear prisoners to pieces as an act of vengeance. That is not what Senjumaru gave you this power for.”

  
Unohana glanced at you for a moment. Her eyes were dark like the abyss you fell into just a while ago; you wondered where she had been to be this way, where she acquired the power you could feel brimming under her skin. Her power was so visceral, like bones and flesh breaking and reshaping in a pit of tar.

  
“I see you all disagree with me,” Urahara said and raised his palms towards the ceiling, “Isshin, what is your opinion?”

  
Isshin Kurosaki uncrossed his arms and took a step away from the wall. He was not quite frowning but on the way there; he sighed audibly before he spoke.

  
“I don’t care about these Quincy and their health, especially if one or more of them are responsible for this whole thing,” he said, “I see your point, I really do, but I don’t think Benihime’s powers are what could solve this.”

  
“Then let me try.”

  
Urahara sounded almost calm again, proposing a simple plan to get to the best and safest conclusion. Keeping all the variables in his head, shifting and twisting them to come up with any and all ways out. He was smart, you knew that, but so was Aizen.

  
“ _Try_?” Hirako asked, visibly taken aback, “You want to-”

  
“I want to give it a shot,” Urahara answered, certain, “I will use my Bankai on one of them and if it does not yield any immediate results we will spend more time on finding a different solution.”

  
There was relief in Yoruichi’s expression- you couldn’t blame her. Her friend showed signs of reason and she grasped onto it just like you would in a similar situation.

  
You didn’t trust Urahara, though, not for a second, not anymore. Grief consumed others before him and didn’t stop at _great minds._

  
“I don’t like it,” Hirako said, “But I will only stop you if you go too far.”

  
Isshin shrugged. Unohana stayed quiet and watched. You got the feeling that Hirako would have no reason to step in at all if she was around.

  
Yoruichi nodded. It surprised you to see her walk past her friend and towards you, helping you up from where Urahara’s shinigami guards shoved you to the ground.

  
“Which one?” she asked over her shoulder and watched you closely.

  
Urahara glanced at the door you just came from and your heart beat so fast you thought you would faint on the spot. _Nonononono._

  
“He can’t speak,” Isshin said, picking up on the same thing.

  
“Unohana, you healed him a moment ago, did you not?”

  
“I did,” she agreed, “However, I won’t take their pain only for you to inflict more. I have moved past such nonsensical cruelty.”

  
Urahara shrugged her backhanded insult off and chose a door, stepped in before anyone else could stop him.

  
You hadn’t breathed in a minute and your lungs hurt as you exhaled.

  
_Pernida._

  
But even as you inhaled again there was no moment to rest at all, no delay in events that shook you out of your sense of reality.

  
There was a tearing sound, then another. No scream.

  
Yoruichi was the first to jump to the door and rip it open- but she was too late.

  
Crouched on the floor you still saw the blood flooding into the adjacent room, the splatters on the wall and on the ceiling.

  
Oh, Urahara had used his Bankai. You were sure of it because she was still there, that ghostly woman with six arms and stitches across her body. There were leeches sprouting from her back, so few that it almost looked comical.

  
Pernida was gone entirely.

  
Yoruichi shouted Urahara’s name but you could see it was too late- he was in the room, still.

  
In pieces.

  
Benihime turned to face all of you, dead eyes and a bright smile. There were chunks of flesh all over her front, a wraith clad in red and white.

  
She opened her mouth and spoke; no sound could be heard but her lips kept moving as if she was giving commands to a creature beyond this world.

  
Then she reached out with her spidery fingers, reached out towards all of you.

 

* * *

 


	51. out, out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since I last posted, I know. I won't abandon this fic, I promise you that! It's done and just needs to be posted and I will try to be better about that again bc I owe it to the many people who were so kind as to leave kudos and comments on this to finish this one thing.
> 
> The reason? Things aren't going so well for me. But that'll be all I say here. 
> 
> Hope there's still someone reading out there. To you, I say: Enjoy!
> 
> Warning for: Minor character death

* * *

 

 

Something cracked outside in the walls of this layer; it was a ghastly sound far off in the distance. Instinctively you knew that it signalled a change and not a good one, a deep cut into the world like a precise incision.

  
_A bloody mess in front of you, someone you loved suffering because your claws dug deep._

  
Benihime moved like a creature of nightmares, with her emaciated arms and fingernails like knives. As she crawled the bottom half of her face shifted. It took a second for you to realize her jaw was dislocated, moving downward to expose a toothless maw, held together by stitches and reiatsu.

  
She reached the doorway and Unohana was already waiting for her; the dark tendrils of blood and gore tugging on the zanpakuto spirit until she crashed to the floor. You shivered, looking at the two otherworldly creatures staring each other down.

  
It was not self-deprecation that made you think you would have no chance trying to stop either of them; Pantera agreed and her spirit pulled you away from the fight, into safer territory.

  
Yoruichi stepped towards Benihime without hesitation and you wondered how much strength she really possessed to move like this when her friend’s organs were splattered all over the walls around her.

  
“No more of this shit,” she spat out and it was an order, not a suggestion, “No more.”

  
She ripped out the leeches with her bare hands. One strike, then two more; she tore them out with clean precision. They had no time to struggle or move any deeper- and then they were still and dead and gone.

  
Spirits like Benihime didn’t bleed like you had. She shivered in her restraints, writhed as if she felt pain at all.

  
“Sleep,” Unohana said and her voice was low.

  
Benihime obeyed.

  
She fell to the ground, motionless. A second later she morphed back into the shape of a sword, her wielder still gone.

  
You breathed deeply for the first time in a few minutes. It was only a brief instant of respite, though; there was another sound in the distance, a second crack in the fabric of the world.

  
“What’s happening?” you asked and your voice was almost gone, “What’s going on out there?”

 

* * *

 

 

_One time you dreamed of something other than the world you used to know. It got old, after all, remembering that summer that ended way too early and with the sound of snapping spines._

  
_That day in the wasteland you dreamed of what it would feel like to be the king of this world, to have all you ever wanted since your wishes were what formed it._

  
_There was a throne of bones atop the castle and it was high in the sky, high above all the filth and shadows of the dying._

  
_What you needed was nourishment. What you needed were souls, souls of those who possessed even a shred of potential. So you sent others to get them, let your loyal hounds reap what you sowed. They ripped all of them apart for you, brought them back in pieces. Grinding gears, a machine oiled with their blood._

  
_You found yourself thinking that there was no point at times, that a lot of this was gratuitous and your power a phantasmagoria. Other days you knew that your place was up here, that you had been wronged and hunted for too long._

  
_Sacrifices were needed. So were compromises._

  
_You ruled the world that you created. You ruled a world that had no end._

 

* * *

 

 

The swarm moved all at once, a solid block of living creatures, all sewn together to form a grotesque effigy for their twisted god. They moved with purpose, too, closer to their goal than ever before.

  
“This is worse than last time,” Hirako said and looked around, “We have to go immediately.”

  
The bastion shook and you ran, all of you, up to the top to survey the damage. It was where Rukia and Renji rejoined you, looking out onto the flat plane of this layer.

  
The swarm was coming, a sea of leeches hitting the shore. Where they had stayed before was just a bubbling mass of them erupting from the weakpoint; a leaking faucet, an overflowing well.

  
They hit the wall of the bastion within a minute and the stone underneath your feet crumbled.

  
“Stop them!” Yoruichi yelled, “Right now!”

  
And she jumped, an unfamiliar zanpakuto in her right hand. You hadn’t even seen her pick it up after Urahara died.

  
The air smelled like rotting meat. There was no sound louder than the wet crawling noise of the leeches; a clump of creatures, ravenous and insatiable.

  
Unohana followed Yoruichi into battle.

  
You were about to jump after them, already one foot in the grave.

  
“No!” Hirako snapped and pulled you back, “You can’t, not with Aizen’s soul-”

  
You barely heard him through the cacophony of noises, a million leeches and their greed, the heart of the swarm right there under your feet.

  
Time slowed and pulsed and stopped existing as the panic set in again.

  
What they told you was to stay put and not move at all; but the walls were collapsing in on themselves and they ran to where they were needed and suddenly you knew where to go again, where you had to be at this point in time.

  
No one stopped you on your way down to the prisons, not the shinigami and not the swarm itself.

  
_It should be chasing us, shouldn’t it?_ Pantera asked you, _If we really hold Aizen’s soul captive in ours. There is no reason for the Soul King to want you alive at all._

  
You didn’t care much; you knew about the prisoners down in their cages who were trapped and fodder for the leeches. Askin was down there somewhere and you had seen it before you left, that one second of doubt you needed not to give up hope for him. You were friends. You had to try again and again just like he had tried to understand you over and over until you dropped your guard.

  
So you dashed through corridors with sonido carrying you, jumped down staircases and crumbled walls to get to the belly of the beast again. There wasn’t much time; not if you sensed the swarm of leeches looming all over the world and only ever growing closer. You felt them like you had when they were in your flesh, a constant pressure dragging you to the ground. Now there were more and they were in the distance, crawling and feeding on every soul they managed to single out.

  
A shiver ran down your spine and you sped up, feeling your strength return even as the fear took a hold of your heart. There were so many others out there still fighting, so many others you cared about-

  
_But none of them are trapped_ , Pantera reminded you and her voice was calm, _None of them are still under complete control, they can protect themselves._

  
So when you threw open the door to the prison area, barely secured in its hinges at this point, you were sure you made the right choice.

  
Pernida’s reiatsu was gone and the swarm close; you felt it writhe behind the doors, saw the way the walls had caved in to their assault. The Soul King had known where to go exactly from the moment Benihime saw the cells.

  
Lille Barro and Askin were there, weakened but alive, in the room adjacent to Pernida’s. You stepped closer, careful. There was no telling what they would do, what side they were on now that their shackles were broken together with the walls.

  
So when you looked around the corner into their room you were not sure what to expect.

  
“Don’t just stand there!” you heard Askin shout, “Why are you just letting this happen to you? Pernida’s gone, there’s no damn need to keep the trend going!”

  
Lille Barro was not moving, not as the leeches crawled into his skin and not when they covered his mouth and face. He didn’t say a word, not a single one. You saw Askin tug on his arm before the undulating mass devoured the other Sternritter- from head to toe, turned into a beacon of pulsating cruel energy. Then he was gone- just like Giselle, just like you supposed Pernida had left this world, too.

  
Askin stood with his back turned on you, stumbling away from the creature that used to be his friend. His shock seemed to last just a second too long and the leeches came for him next- lashed out with unnatural speed.

  
You were there, too, however, you had been waiting.

  
Askin’s arm was wrenched free from the bubbling mass of insects that tried to keep him restrained. Another sacrifice to their king.

  
You pulled him backwards, out of the room and into the hallway. With sonido it took little more than a second, just a quick step away hoping to avoid the leeches entirely.

  
Askin was faster than you, though, and in the second you felt the unnatural speed of your dash pass there was a pressure on your neck, an unfamiliar blade.

  
You looked at him, his eyes wild and panicked. The edge of a metal shard cut into your neck just a little, pushed out by your spiritual pressure immediately. It barely hurt but you knew it could if he only tried a little harder.

  
A few seconds passed like that, the two of you stuck in a staring contest. Behind you were the noises of the advancing leeches and yet you felt this was a crucial point, an important moment.

  
Anxiety, pressure, confusion.

  
Askin dropped the makeshift knife, let it clatter to the floor next to your feet.

  
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he admitted and his hands were shaking, fidgety, anxious, “I don’t know-”

  
You swallowed, glad to be rid of the sharp blade close to your neck.

  
“The two of them were ready to die just like that. Why’d you try to stop ‘em?”

  
He took a step back from you. Everything about his body language spoke of tension and panic; he had trouble standing still, focusing his eyes on anything. You couldn’t blame him for being a mess- you saw the blood splattered all over him even now, the deep scarring over his chin and neck.

  
“I keep remembering things, contradictory things, things that shouldn’t have happened but I know they did,” Askin said, avoiding your question, “I’m- I am not sure what to believe anymore.”

  
It was a confession that took him a lot of energy; you understood that.

  
“But?” you asked, patient.

  
He took a deep breath, lifting up his palms in a gesture of surrender.

  
“But I want to trust you,” Askin replied, sure this time, “I would like to help.”

  
You looked at him and his damn pretty face and tried so very hard not to notice your heart skipping a beat. He was hurt and confused and possibly didn’t remember you entirely-

  
But you kissed him, just once, just to have done it finally. Carefully, with a hand on his cheek and watching for a sign that he didn’t want it. Askin reciprocated after a second of hesitation, just briefly.

  
You kept it short, determined to leave this for a later time before hugging him to your chest with as much force as you needed. It took him a second too long to do the same- he really was confused, maybe even more surprised than you.

  
“This doesn’t like, y’know, hurt your scars or anything, right?” you muttered, not letting go in the slightest.

  
“Nah,” Askin answered and curled his fingers in your hair, “Don’t worry about that.”

  
You felt it as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

  
It was alright, okay, amazing. No anger left to share.

  
You weren’t going to lose him again.

  
“This could be a trap, you know,” he said close to your ear and stroked his thumb down your shoulder blades, “Me trying to get on your good side only to screw you over. Again.”

 

You huffed out a laugh against his bony shoulder.

  
“Your voice changes when you’re doing that thing.”

  
“What thing?”

  
“That thing where you talk about your damn fears in a sarcastic way to make ‘em sound less serious.”

  
And Askin laughed too, into your hair and he hugged you as close as he could- wanting to be closer but there was no space for that anymore.

  
“This is so,” he began and paused, “You know me but I can’t remember most of the reason why. There are a thousand things on my mind but half of them can’t be real.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Like a time between this world and the last. Where things were quiet. I see flashes of that sometimes, I always thought it was my imagination. Or dreams. Always dreams.”

  
“Nah,” you said, “That happened.”

  
Askin laughed again, choked up and without real amusement and his fingers carded through your hair.

  
“I don’t know if I’ll ever remember.”

  
“Well,” you answered, “One thing at a time, right?”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t like everything was okay again just like so- it didn’t work like that.

  
“You need to give me some more details what happened,” Askin said as the two of you jogged down the narrow corridors, following the traces of reiatsu.

  
“What do you remember?” you asked him, cautious.

  
“I remember following Yhwach to the Soul King’s palace,” came the immediate reply, unwavering, “And until a few days ago I knew for sure that he won the war. All of you surrendered and this world was what was left after the others were destroyed. His creation for us.”

  
You had to admit it was not a bad story to tell- it even explained why the Quincy were in power and not everything was going as well as it should.

  
“But some of the things you said didn’t make sense to me,” Askin continued, “You were right about that, I did notice it seemed fishy. I tried to pretend that it all added up but in the end it really didn’t.”

  
“You deserted him,” you said, “Just before the end of the war after you ran from Yoruichi. You told me you realized that Yhwach’s ambitions didn’t include you of the lower ranks and sold him out.”

  
Askin laughed.

  
“Well, that does seem like a good choice,” he agreed, “I remember bits and pieces of that. Losing to Yoruichi Shihouin, for one, and trying to find out what happened to the other Sternritter somewhere in the human world.”

  
“Yeah, the ones who survived were stuck in the Soul Society. Bambietta, mostly. You talked about her a lot.”

  
Askin glanced at you.

  
“I have conflicting memories for the rest of it,” he said and licked his lips nervously, “There’s the ones that are just spending a grand ol’ time with Gerard and his pals with the world collapsing around us. And then there’s-”

  
As he didn’t continue immediately you gave him time to find the words. It was such a strange story to hear but you didn’t doubt it- you were too tired to be suspicious. You had been angry for so long that any explanation was welcomed.

  
“I remember, uh, _being_ with you,” Askin finally told you, “In whatever way. But those are fragments, mostly. I know you were with Kurosaki so I hope there was no cheating involved. That’s really not my style.”

  
“Nah,” you answered and felt your ears burn, “We just hung out. You said you were aromantic and that was that.”

  
“Ah.”

  
It was a vague reply and you knew there was more to talk about, more detail to be added to that particular subject. Now wasn’t the time for it.

  
“You asked me for a way out after killing Shawlong,” you began, changing the subject, “And referred back to stuff that happened. How does that fit into all this?”

  
You didn’t want to be suspicious but you remembered the way he had hinted at things that meant so much to you, insinuating they hadn’t mattered to him at all.

  
Askin stayed quiet and you feared for a second that you had uncovered a discrepancy, one that would mean this was a trap and all he said a lie.

  
“I didn’t really remember,” he said finally, “It was what you said, I had my doubts. I wanted to see how you’d react to these questions and if you would be willing to elaborate on your, well, _false memories_.”

  
“So it was manipulation.”

  
“Yes,” Askin admitted, “I would not have helped you then, it was only a way to see what you supposedly remembered that I didn’t. It did strike me as strange you were so angry if we never met beyond that first fight. Well, less angry and more personally hurt by my betrayal.”

  
Pantera did not approve of your relief but she also didn’t raise her voice- she considered, listened, evaluated. It was how it had started for you too- with just the wish to listen and learn back in a different Soul King’s palace.

  
“So he used your suicidal ideation against you out here,” you said. It was not a phrasing that would have come to you naturally but you remembered he had used it once- words found in the treatment humans could provide.

  
Askin was visibly taken aback.

  
“I told you about that?”

  
“Not much. You told me things I didn’t get and I was too fucking arrogant to ask for an explanation.”

  
It was a self-deprecating thing to say but sometimes you felt that way- that your inability to speak your mind and find the right words ruined many things.

  
Askin looked at you without saying anything for a while until you spoke up.

  
“What, is that surprising?”

  
“I’m not the kind of person to open up to just anyone,” he told you, “I might not remember all of it but that doesn’t change.”

  
It was a good thing to hear, one of the best.

  
“Well,” you replied, a little flustered, “For now all you gotta do is help us get rid of the Soul King. Anything else’ll come after that.”

  
A sharp nod.

  
“With Lille and Pernida gone the prisons in the outside will stop working,” Askin explained, “So that should make things a little easier.”

  
“How so? Wasn’t that your job? Felt like your power, at least.”

  
“The Soul King can use my power as he sees fit. It was never me personally keeping up the defenses, more like a concoction of all our _Schrift_. That also means I won’t be enough of a living asset to keep it up. I think the whole reason we were out there was because the range of his influence does not entirely cover the wasteland itself.”

  
And even if _what_ he said was important too it was such a relief to have him by your side again- and not only as an informant but as someone who wanted to help, who had every chance to run but didn’t.

  
He caught you looking at him and smiled tentatively.

  
“You’re gonna make me blush, you rude Hollow,” he said, “Remember I don’t have the entirety of the story to feel here. Just the tearful reunion.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_During that summer Askin told you he was waiting for death, had been for a long time._

  
_“It sounds so dramatic,” he said and it was one of the times you let your fingers brush against his._

  
_“What does?”_

  
_“Saying that I wish for death,” was his reply and he smiled so wide you didn’t believe him for a second, “It seems so trivial to me. It’s just a thought. Constantly. Instead of searching for a solution there is death on my mind. It’s fascinating, especially with all of my associates dead and gone.”_

  
_You didn’t know what to say._

  
_“Some were alive when Yhwach died,” you told him, “Soul Society has them in their prisons.”_

  
_“So they’re dead now,” Askin laughed into your shoulder, “Ironic that the one with death in his goddamn name is the only one who made it. If I was into that sort of junk I would call it fate.”_

  
_“You’re not dead,” you said and didn’t quite know why. It seemed important, somehow._

  
_Askin kept laughing because wasn’t that obvious? He recovered quickly but didn’t move away as long as you let him stay, your fingers touching, leaning against each other._

  
_Close._

  
_Alive._

  
_He shared a lot of things with you, including whatever strange human beverages he brought along, including words and memories and thoughts. Warmth, too. You always felt like he listened to and cared about what you said._

  
_So you decided not to think about caution and keeping your heart locked up and distant._

 

* * *

 

 

It was not like you had never considered telling Ichigo. He would understand, you thought on the better days, there was a way for all of it to work out.

  
But you never brought up the fact you ended up having feeling for two people at once, to neither of them. Askin was aromantic and never pushed for anything beyond friendship; and Ichigo was good, so good, and you were afraid he would think he wasn’t good enough. They were, both of them, on their own and you were fumbling with feelings you still didn’t really understand.

  
So you buried yourself in it, tried to be what you thought you had to. No one explained this to you because you had no idea how to ask; you told Orihime too late to listen to her advice.

 

* * *

 

 

_“There are no tiers or ranks when it comes to love,” Orihime told you, “You have to be honest. Communicate. Listen. If you are unsure what to do you can always ask for help. I’ll do all I can, promise!”_

 

* * *

 


	52. down underway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update before nanowrimo (aka the time when I cry 24/7 bc there need to be more words on this table, goddamnit, where are they)!
> 
> This, once more, has Askin. I think at this point I scared everyone who doesn't like him away anyway so...
> 
> Warning for some mentions of what Luppi did in this!

* * *

 

 

The swarm was coming for you, both of you. It was nothing like the dark of evening that was creeping up slowly; it was an ocean of creatures, a wave of them about to crash into shore. You were running from it.

  
In the back of your mind a tugging sensation tried to convince you to stay; but it was not strong enough, nothing like the call to hunt.

  
Askin staggered.

  
You reached out instinctively, kept him on his feet while also urging him along.

  
“You okay?” you asked and held his arm, “We can’t stop-”

  
“I know,” he answered, tired, “I know that.”

  
What was just a small voice to you, easy to ignore, was enough to have him double over in your grip, clutching the sides of his head. His shivers ran through you too and you were scared, so scared that he would slip through your fingers again.

  
Your heart skipped a beat, your grip on him tightened.

  
“What’s happening?”

  
There was undeniable panic in your voice. So far things had only gotten better, you had tried so hard to keep it that way- it wasn’t fair, wasn’t right-

  
“I’m sorry,” Askin said and leaned on your for a second, molded against you, “There’s something telling me to go and push the two of us into that swarm. It’s a little annoying.”

  
“Is that what you want, too?”

  
“No. I want nothing to do with it. I wish it could shut up.”

  
He flinched as if there was a loud noise in his head, assaulting him from inside his own body. For just a second you wondered if this was something he did to prove to you it wasn’t his choice that led him here; but it was a fearful thought, not one you wanted.

  
“Yhwach never knew how to shut his damn mouth,” Askin mumbled and exhaled close to your skin, “Might be the pot calling the kettle black but hey, I don’t sit in people’s subconscious and recreate slasher films."

  
“Slasher films?”

  
“He wants me to leave you behind and search for the suspicious noises. Or something like it. It’s a stupid trope.”

  
You remembered that from watching films with him but he didn’t seem to know that.

  
Askin nudged you after a second.

  
“Let’s go,” he said, “I know we have little time to spare. Thank you for granting me some of it.”

  
It sounded a little formal for your liking, as if he didn’t realize you weren’t doing this out of a sense of duty. That debate had to wait, though, perhaps forever. There was no point to discuss changes with someone who did not remember the start.

  
“We should try to get underground,” Askin continued, “If this structure is collapsing then the tunnels below might be the only way to go. Do you know where your friends were headed?”

  
“No clue. They were fighting those leeches.”

  
“And you-”

  
You blushed and slung his arm over your shoulder, helped him carry himself a little easier.

  
“Went to get you.”

  
“That’s very sweet,” Askin replied and only made you blush more, like a fool who soaked up all these praises, “We must have been very close.”

  
“Well, I thought so.”

  
His laugh was not happy. He knew that he tried to keep a distance most of the time even though he could not remember the moments itself. Or that’s what you guessed- he had always been acutely aware of his own faults before. A thin line between confidence and disgust.

  
“Well,” you said, “Underground it is then.”

  
There was reiatsu below your feet, underneath the stone and the leeches coming for you. Whatever it was that lurked down there- it was waiting for you.

 

* * *

 

 

_“But why are they even going there?” you mumbled under your breath, “If they have no powers and they’re alone why do they have to go down into the cellar so badly? Can’t they just, y’know, not do that-”_

  
_“That’s the good thing about horror movies,” Askin whispered back at you and laughed as you continued to nervously nibble on popcorn, “The characters are infuriating and you can’t even shout at them. We are helpless and watching them struggle and isn’t that futility what really creates horror-”_

  
_He was interrupted by you jumping in your seat as a ghost popped out on the screen. Askin was not as scared of the movie as you were but he was twice as nervous in any other situation- you heard more than saw him jump, too. There was popcorn all over your lap in a second._

  
_You looked at each other in the murky light of the screen. Then you laughed, both of you, laughed until someone a few rows ahead turned to glare at you._

  
_The stars were a little brighter that night; it was the first time you considered this could end well- with him and you and Ichigo because you loved both of them and had no idea what to say._

* * *

 

 

The swarm was closing in. You felt its reiatsu all around you, chasing the flickers of life it detected within the ruins.

  
“How’d you know there was something below this?” you asked at some point, staggering closer to where you remembered stars to be, a way down below.

  
Askin hummed quietly. He was tired, so tired. His eyelids fluttered shut so often you wondered how he was walking at all.

  
“I can see this whole structure,” he answered, pointing you towards the direction you had guessed was right, too, “Like a blueprint. I remember building it.”

  
“So, the Soul King really is Yhwach?”

  
A small hope, a candle in the dark tunnels you feared awaited you.

  
Askin shrugged.

  
”It’s him for sure,” he said, “Or whoever it is wants me to think it is him, at least. There are others, too, though. I don’t always get the same impulses from them.”

  
You knew the feeling. You told him as much, remembered the few instances when you suddenly knew things that helped you instead of receiving commands. A mixture of thoughts.

  
Askin squeezed the side of your arm. A small comfort. It helped.

  
But the swarm was coming and a hatch up ahead, leading down into a part of the bastion you had not accessed yet. Something forbidden; a cavernous structure they wanted to leave untouched.

  
Pantera shivered at the thought of the heavy earth surrounding you; a grave of your own choosing.

  
Askin was with you and the monsters wouldn’t wait.

  
“No other way but forward,” you said and you dragged each other along into the unknown, “No other way but down.”

 

* * *

 

 

The darkness was silent. The silence deafening.

  
You walked until there was nothing but blurry flashes of color in front of your eyes; the same tunnels, the same smell of dust and stale water.

  
When the shadows behind you began to twitch you ran. Any remnant of tiredness vanished as the adrenaline set in and it was just the two of you in the dark, not a word to be said, hunting a thought of safety through nothingness.

  
Askin’s heart was beating and you tried to find solace in that. If he was lying to you he would not waste this opportunity to dispose of you; his reaitsu fluctuated whenever there was movement in the dark. Tangible fear, the will to stay alive. Living creatures seemed to be worth nothing to the Soul King.

  
“This sucks,” he said and it was the first time he spoke up since you made it to these tunnels, “I really shouldn’t have asked you to go down here.”

  
Above you there was a storm raging, of infected bodies crawling and searching for something to tear apart.

  
“I think we’d be dead if we stayed up there,” you answered. As a Hollow you could see in this darkness easily; even with no light around there were walls for you to follow, your companion right next to you.

  
The tunnels were near circular and barely higher than your head, leaving just enough space for three or four people to walk through at the same time. They didn’t look like they had been used in ages, dusty and worn-down.

  
“These are bastardized versions of Soul Society’s underground systems,” Askin said and coughed, “Sewage and whatever.”

  
“How do you-”

  
“I have no idea. I don’t think I have ever researched that. And I doubt I was ever the type to crawl through dirty pipes filled with water.”

  
You doubted that, too. He looked around in the dark nervously, stumbled over small bumps in the tunnel floor.

  
“Can you see?” you asked him and you should have done so earlier, really, “Shit, sorry, I didn’t think-”

  
“A little,” he replied and flinched as he walked into you, “Enough to walk in a straight line but please don’t hold up fingers and ask me to count them.”

  
You did something else and he yelped.

  
“This okay?” you asked, holding his hand, “Might help in the dark.”

  
“Sure. Yeah. In the dark.”

  
You felt foolish for even thinking of such a thing immediately and tried to retract your arm, already mumbling curses and half-baked apologies under your breath.

  
Askin held onto your hand.

  
“Look,” he said and sighed, smiling a little to the left of where you actually were, “I’m sorry I’m not the person you seem to want to have with you here but this is nice. You’re nice. This might sound selfish but if this gives you comfort then it’s fine with me. Since, y’know, I just learned that all I believe to be true is a ploy to get me to commit suicide.”

  
He took your hand in both of his.

  
“So yeah. Hand-holding. In the dark. With someone who gives a crap about me. I’m in. Let’s do it.”

  
You hugged him in the middle of a terribly dark and grimy tunnel because you could. Because hugs were one of your favorite activities in this world. There were a lot of things you wanted to say, too, that you never managed to get out when you could.

Far too little, far too late.

  
“Honestly, you’re such a genuinely nice person,” he mumbled, “It’s rude that I don’t remember you when my head’s full of memories of Pernida and Gerard.”

  
“They didn’t hug you, I assume.”

  
“I was spared that torture. They mostly ignored me for being of lower rank.”

  
You wanted to stay like this longer, even- or especially- in this environment. You wanted a lot of things.

  
“We have to go, though,” Askin said, “Give me your hand again.”

  
You did.

 

* * *

 

 

_The dreams of better days were always warmer than the ones of the wasteland- because you were happy during summer, associated all good things with it now. A world, another and the last. You cared and were cared for by others and had the chance to learn more and more- exponentially, as you so foolishly hoped. Eternally._

 

* * *

 

 

The shadows behind you twitched, reached out for you. There was a time when you had to start running, when the shadowy claws of whatever lived down here scratched your skin.

  
Askin said something about not wanting _this to end like Thelma and Louise, thank you very much_ and let you drag him along by the hand, following you through an endless repetition of the same layout of tunnels.

  
Askin told you what corners to turn and where to go- or he tried to because the control on his mind intensified whenever he attempted to access the corresponding memories.

  
“Up above it was easier,” he complained and pressed his free hand against his temple, “I think whatever is after us belongs to the Soul King and is trying to clean up down here.”

  
You kept running, not knowing if you were getting anywhere, if there was an end to this at all.

  
“What do you think that is?” Askin shouted at you, “Why does Yhwach have Cthulhu in his freaking cellar?”

  
“You tell me!” you replied, “You know the layout of this place, you know what this all this once was, what about the freaking otherworldly monster bullshit?”

  
“I can’t do all the work here!”

  
And he laughed even as you were running, even as the shadows kept up their chase. Perhaps this was easier to process and understand than anything else for him right now; this was a simple situation. Run, run away.

  
“There’s something up ahead,” you heard him say at some point when the sound of your footsteps had gotten deafening. Looking up from the floor you saw light. A sharp corner, a way up. The tunnel looked like it ended.

  
Askin’s hand was cold in yours. You kept on running.

  
Another few metres, a last-ditch effort. The lungs burned in your chest. Sounds were ringing in your ears and everything hurt, everything was an itch in your skull that couldn’t be scratched.

  
_End end end end end please end-_

  
You staggered around the corner, following the spark in the darkness.

  
There was a door there, heavy and made of metal. You threw your body against it first, then turned the valve you found beneath your fingertips. Quick fingers, your mind and heart racing.

  
For this you had to let go of Askin and you glanced over your shoulder to make sure he was still there, wasn’t devoured by the swarm.

  
“We got it,” you said and the door clanged open, screeched in its hinges, “Come on-”

  
He was right behind you as you stepped through, threw the door shut after you passed it.

  
You expected the shadows to crawl right after you, seconds away and not bothered at all by steel and locks.

  
Heavy breathing in your ears, your throat. Your own, echoing like gunshots.

  
Nothing happened. The shadows stayed gone.

  
“We made it,” Askin said and coughed, “I shouldn’t be so surprised but-”

  
He stopped abruptly.

  
You turned around, exhausted, dreaded whatever kept him quiet.

  
By now the two of you were barely keeping yourself on your feet. The last thing your stressed mind expected was people; just people you knew, not strangers or a mass of monsters about to devour you.

  
It stopped you in your tracks, chest heaving and heart pounding beneath.

  
Bambietta and Candice were there, Bazz B as well; but also Yoruichi and Hirako, Senjumaru and Unohana.

  
A moment of awkward surprise passed between them and you.

  
Then you found yourself at the other end of their weapons; an abrupt change if you had ever seen one. With your head so full of hope you had barely spared a thought to how this would go.

  
“Okay, whoa, rude,” Askin said and lifted up his hands in a defensive gesture, gently removing himself from your hold, “Nice to meet you people, too, the name’s Askin Nakk Le Vaar, former Sternritter and prisoner, now here to-”

  
“Is he with you?” Yoruichi asked you instead.

  
“I think so,” you answered.

  
You were exhausted. There was light again. All you wanted was to sleep, get some rest knowing they were alive.

  
A short distance away you felt more reiatsu, other people who were not dead at all. Abarai, the elder Kuchiki, Soifon.

  
You exhaled a short breath, all you had in your lungs.

  
Askin caught you as you fell but collapsed to his knees because he was in the same state as you; no power to draw upon.

  
“I understand if you want to keep me contained,” he said, not to you, and you heard his voice as if the two of you were underwater, “But please do take care of this idiot here. He went through all this just to save my ass so I feel very inclined to tell you to fucking let him rest, already.”

  
Someone laughed. If you had to guess it was Yoruichi but after a few hours of sensory overload in nothing but sombre tunnels you were not sure anymore.

  
Adrenaline had kept you from experiencing panic as much as you would have in other scenarios but now it came crashing down; just in time.

  
There was a hand on your chest, keeping you up. Your heart was loud and your head spun as you slowly began to lose yourself again, feeling the fear creep into you as it should have a long time ago.

  
Pantera was not enough to calm you.

  
”Sleep,” someone said and you saw it was Unohana, coming up to you and Askin, “Sleep now.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Your dreams about Luppi were reminders that your mind had not been your own in the time he tortured you. It was terrible, of course, but you endured it quietly and without complaint, hardly mentioned it to Nel or Harribel when they came asking for you. There was nothing to say, you thought, this was how things had to be._

  
_Three years. Then it stopped and suddenly the control was gone, too- and with it the ability to swallow down all trauma and ignore it._

  
_Panic was in your veins, paranoia and that desperate, dying wish to find better days._

  
_Luppi tortured you because he was scared you would turn it around on him; possibly because he was urged to by the Soul King to keep you down and Aizen’s soul safe for when he needed it._

  
_It didn’t excuse the scars on the side of your head, the humiliation, the dreams that had you wake up wheezing and coughing, spitting out bile and feeling filthy, so filthy. Luppi did not touch you for anything other than inflicting pain; except once when he bashed your head into the ground and kissed you as if you were his to claim, a bloody beaten prize._

  
_In your nightmares you never managed to escape him, you never ripped him apart as you wanted because your power did not return. Pantera was gone for good._

  
_The world ended just like that._

 

* * *

 


	53. Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo?? hewwwo???  
> is anyone even reading this anymore who knows who knows
> 
> but hey yes I'm not dead and I haven't forgotten about this, it's gonna get published or I'll say one (1) swear word out loud

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately there was no moment before waking up when you believed to be in a different time, a different place. If you had the choice you would have imagined a day in that summer when you awoke to a hand stroking your hair. Slow touches, gentle touches.

  
Orihime did this sometimes, so did Sado. Most of all, though, it was Ichigo who made sure you woke up to something like this; to a world that wasn’t out to kill you at any given second.

  
Instead you came to and there was an ache in your spine, a shiver down your neck. The ground you lay on was cold and rough; there were pebbles stuck in your earlobe and a kink in your neck.

  
You groaned.

  
As you opened your eyes you were greeted with the tunnel floors; brighter than the one you stumbled through for a while but still unwelcoming, still dirty. The scars on the side of your head itched. Every last inch of your body felt filthy and worn out; sleep wasn’t enough to fix this.

  
It was quiet around you.

  
_Like a grave_ , Pantera supplied unhelpfully, _If you want to be dramatic like that._

  
She was still there. You exhaled, inhaled. Deep breaths. Keep the panic at bay. The coil of anxiety in your stomach was not calmed quite as easily; there was no rationality to it, no beginning and no end.

  
The pool of reiatsu around you stayed familiar; they were all still there, all of them, gathered close.

  
You moved just a little, stretching out your sore legs. There was something draped over you, some sort of cloth; it shifted as you tried to sit up. Smooth white fabric beneath your fingertips. A Quincy’s cloak, streaks of dried blood on it. A makeshift blanket.

  
Around you most of the others were sleeping still, close to the vault door leading to the deeper tunnels. You wondered why they hadn’t moved away from it- but maybe the danger they had escaped from in the other direction was worse than being trapped here.

  
You were still drowsy, trying to shake off the cobwebs from a terrible few hours of sleep. Even outside in the desert your back had not hurt this much; you felt a thousand years old.

  
Close to you were Renji and Bazz B, huddled under another cloak and snoring quietly. As a Hollow the temperatures didn’t bother you very much but they looked as though they were cold, even hugging like that.

  
It took you another moment to remember that the situation you had fallen asleep in was not the best.

  
You didn’t jump to your feet but you wanted to; restless enough to shake everyone awake and ask what happened, what the plan was, what did they do to-

  
_Grimmjow_ , Pantera reprimanded you, _Calm down. He’s over there._

  
You followed her mental nudge and relaxed again, sliding back down against the wall.

  
Askin was alive; not killed on the spot, not thrown out to feed the swarm. He sat a small distance away, still awake, talking quietly with someone you identified as Yoruichi by the color of her hair. She had her back turned on you, bouncing on her haunches.

  
There was a thin band of reiatsu connecting Askin’s wrists; shackles of kido, if you had to guess. They felt like Unohana’s power- strong enough to remind you of the fear she instilled in you with just a glance.

  
_It’s smart_ , Pantera said, _He can’t be trusted with his power, even if he is telling the truth._

  
You growled out a rude reply but you knew she was right. It wasn’t as easy as you would like to make it; too many of you were locked up in here to risk anything now.

  
Looking around you saw Rukia was awake, too.

 

* * *

 

 

_Rukia and Nel did not interact much during the war inside the Soul King’s palace. They were courteous and kind to one another but nothing more than that- tolerance rather than a friendship. It surprised you, honestly; because Nel got along with everyone else so easily, immediately offered her respect and support if they earned it. Rukia was colder, or so you thought at first, a little more distant. Orihime told you she was shy, too; had spent so long thinking of herself as expendable that she took time to warm up to people._

  
_It was when the war ended that things changed._

  
_“I want to go see the Soul Society now that all’s good again,” Nel told you and countered your frown with a grin, “And not just to negotiate. I want to try and learn more about them. Maybe spread some positivity for us, too.”_

  
_Hollows as a whole needed that but you didn’t think of that as your job. If the shinigami were not willing to go to the same lengths than it was a wasted effort to you._

  
_Nel went anyway and she returned with stories. Pictures, too, as soon as she received her own phone._

  
_“Look at this!” she said, full of excitement, “They have so many flowers in that one part of the Seiretei-”_

  
_With time Rukia showed up in the stories more and more; they went to places together or just talked briefly between their respective errands._

  
_On the pictures they seemed to have fun together- both of them laughed or smiled, close to each other._

  
_“I am glad they are friends,” Orihime said to you, not a shred of jealousy, “Both of them deserve all the friends in the world.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Feeling better?” Rukia asked you as you sat down next to her. You were careful to choose the side that she could still see on.

  
You grunted in reply, plopping down and crossing your legs.

  
“What’s going on?” you asked her, “Why are we staying here? And what happened to the fucking sea of leeches?”

  
There was no movement above- not as far as you could tell. The ominous reiatsu was gone too, wiped from the face of the earth.

  
“They retreated. We stayed here because it seemed as good a spot as any to get some rest.”

  
“So the plan is…?”

  
“To go back up there and find a way to the weak point at all cost.”

  
You sighed and leaned your head against the wall. A plan after another, a disaster following suit. It would be so much easier to just lie down and stay here, wait for this to pass.

  
But Nel was somewhere out there and so was the Soul King that needed to be killed; you sighed again, still tired to the bone.

  
“No one got hurt, right?” you asked next.

  
“Except for Urahara, no. He’s gone.”

  
She sounded regretful. You didn’t share the sentiment but then you had never been close to him or known him outside of a war.

  
Now he was dead and the rest of you moved on; even the ones who considered him their friend. You looked over to Yoruichi. She wouldn’t show a sign of weakness, you knew that much. Somehow you doubted she wouldn’t be able to keep that up. It wasn’t healthy, though. Orihime told you as much while she still could.

  
“Is she okay?” you asked and cocked your head. Even with your voice low and a distance to her you feared Yoruichi would hear you; it was concern that made you ask, not underestimation.

  
“I doubt it,” Rukia replied, “But in all honesty, I don’t think a lot of us are okay right now. We’re alive, sure, but this situation is not good no matter how you twist and turn it.”

  
“There’s a monster down below, you know.”

  
She raised her eyebrows.

  
“Where you came from?”

  
“Yeah. In the tunnels. Some kind of shadowy creature chased us around for hours.”

  
Rukia blinked slowly, folded her hands in her lap.

  
“Do you have an idea what it was? Something related to the leeches again?”

  
“It felt like the kind of shadows they had on the outside,” you told her and it constricted your throat like a bone stuck in your trachea.

  
“Oh. What did they do? What were they?”

  
“No idea. They followed some people around, led some others in the desert to their death. Never really understood what they wanted.”

  
Rukia hummed, pensive and concerned. She ran a hand through her short hair, scratched the back of her neck, clicked her fingernails together. Nervous. Worried.

  
“There was a lot of weird shit happening out there,” you continued and snorted, “Some Quincy experimented on Hollows, tried to turn us back into whatever they think we used to be. People just vanished out of existence.”

 

* * *

 

 

It would take you years to realize Tesla was gone. There was no warning, no middle ground between life or death, existence or whatever happened to him.

  
He was gone- ripped out of the story like a blank page, like a scrapped sketchbook canvas. Lines swirling like thunderstorms, round and round and round again.

  
You didn’t mourn him. The wasteland took what it had given; and so much more.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you going to be able to keep him in check?”

  
The elder Kuchiki’s voice was stern as it had always been, but Yoruichi did not extend him the same courtesy. The grin on her face was enough to make you laugh, too; quietly and out of range of the shinigami’s anger.

  
“Don’t worry,” Yoruichi said and pointed towards Askin who leaned against the wall next to her, “I kicked his ass once already when he tried to poison Ichigo.”

  
Askin frowned and averted his eyes.

  
“When did that happen?” you asked, trying in vain to hide your amusement. You knew what it was like to fight her; especially at the height of her power with no time to waste. Only the worst of enemies would ever stand a chance.

  
“Oh, you were still knocked out,” she told you, “This one here tried to dispose of Ichigo quickly but I couldn’t just let that happen, right?”

  
“It’s true,” Askin admitted as you looked at him for confirmation, “She just, y’know. Flew in. Whoosh. Ass kicked.”

  
“ _Whoosh_?”

  
“Whoosh,” he agreed and frowned again.

  
“Now, don’t sell yourself short,” Yoruichi commented and her lips twitched into the grin you knew best, “You did manage to talk a lot before you ran off. All that stuff about the Vollständig and your abilities, it was kind of adorable, made me feel bad for punching you in the middle of it-”

  
“Rude?!”

  
“Hardly. What is rude, however, is trying to poison everyone.”

  
“ _Look-_ ”

  
“Y’know,” Yoruichi interrupted him, “I always wondered, why didn’t you transform like the others? They did look horrible but that shouldn’t matter so much in a war, hm? Or were you too scared of being ugly?”

  
You had never seen Askin as offended as he was in this moment.

  
“Unlike Lille I never had an interest in turning into a giant spiritual giraffe with a chicken face,” he said and lifted his chin, “I only got the wings. The rabble in general was spared the embarrassment.”

  
“Aw, are you jealous?”

  
“So jealous. I cried myself to sleep every night because a life without a magical chicken transformation is not worth living.”

  
They bickered as if they had known each other for ages; you should have seen this coming, honestly, knowing the two of them. It wasn’t enough to forget the shackles on Askin’s wrists but it helped you believe things could work out.

  
“So you have this under control,” Kuchiki said, icily.

  
“ _This_ is very much being controlled right now,” Askin answered, “And _this_ is also very interested in getting rid of said control as soon as possible. Long story short, I want to help. If that requires you to chain me up and drag me along like a dog, so be it.”

  
“Do you have no sense of dignity?”

  
Kuchiki frowned, a look of disdain on his face, but Askin only graced it with a fake gasp of surprise followed by a shrug.

  
“I’ll be sure to mention your arrogance disguised as dignity in your eulogy, Kuchiki Byakuya. I’m afraid there are not many things to rhyme it with, though.”

  
Yoruichi snapped her fingers in front of his face.

  
“We don’t have time for this childish squabbling, boys,” she said and turned back to Rukia’s brother, “I don’t have to prove myself to you, do I? I’ll fight you when there is more time and not as many people to witness your disgraceful defeat.”

  
Kuchiki looked like he was about to unsheathe his sword and kill both of them on the spot; but he was a shinigami noble, he knew how to lock away his emotions and control himself.

  
“Very well,” he said through gritted teeth, “I don’t look forward to cleaning up your messes.”

  
He left; swishing cloak and regal posture.

  
At your side you heard Askin complain about how the only person to call him a mess should be himself, regardless of how true it was. Yoruichi sighed in response, patted his shoulder and left him by himself, chains still in place.

  
Before you could step up to him and ask whatever you had on your mind, she stopped you.

  
“Blue, you’ll be coming with me for a second if you don’t mind.”

  
You were about to tell her that hell yes, you minded that a lot, in fact- but the way Yoruichi looked at you kept you quiet. So far she had not disappointed you, had always looked out for you and everyone close.

  
Pantera laughed quietly.

  
_She had a friend she trusted with all her heart, too._

  
It was not enough of a warning for you to resist. No one in here had killed you or put you in chains; they believed you. You had to believe them, too.

  
So you pushed your hands into your flimsy pockets and followed after her, just a little bit further into the tunnels where no one was supposed to hear you. Footsteps echoed so loud out here, harsh on your sleep-addled mind.

  
“First,” Yoruichi began without any sort of preamble, “Until things have quieted down or he is proven to be reliable I suggest you stay away from your friend as much as you can.”

  
“Why?”

  
She cocked her head, surprised that you did not react any more strongly.

  
“I spoke to him earlier,” she explained, “I will give him the benefit of the doubt but that does not mean I won’t be suspicious. He needs to share all the information he has and I will make sure he does.”

  
“What does that have to do with me?” you asked and tried not to think about the implications of what she said. Yoruichi wouldn’t torture- you were sure of it.

  
“He means a lot to you, I realize that. But with the possibility that he is lying you should not give him the option to manipulate you, Blue. Just a thought.”

  
You were only angry for a second; old habits dying hard again. It sounded like underestimation to you at first and you wanted to scream your frustration out into the world. It passed as quickly as it came, a habitualization that was no longer needed.

  
“Thanks for worrying,” you growled instead, a little embarrassed. Yoruichi’s eyes widened by a fraction. Then she laughed.

  
“Don’t mention it,” she said, “I do tend to get a bit attached to strays like you. I can appreciate progress.”

  
She had been there since the beginning of your journey; the important one, at least, the one that helped you learn and change. That was one of the reasons you trusted her, too; because in order to earn her respect one had to prove to her that they were worth the effort.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Get back on your feet,” Yoruichi told you with a voice as sharp as razors, “No enemy would give you this much time to recover.”_

  
_You snarled at her like the animal you were taught you had to be, anger festering like an infected heart below your own._

  
_The ruins were dirty and their dust clung to you as you got up; no matter how much you tried to brush it off it stuck to you, to your skin and clothes. You hated it all, hated the sun burning down on you and the damn confusion that chased you through streets and over rooftops with nothing but death waiting below._

  
_“Fuck you,” you said to her and spat out a mouthful of blood, “I don’t need your condescending bullshit.”_

  
_“You need to get rid of that attitude,” she answered and evaded a slice of your claws, “I am not even looking down on you at the moment, Blue, you would know if I was.”_

  
_She was lying, of course, every word and promise out here was false and Pantera chastised you for any second you listened._

  
_It was the beginning of your hunt for Yhwach with all these people; when you were around Sado and Orihime you were okay, felt at ease, started to trust. Any other situation had you gritting your teeth, baring your fangs at any potential danger._

  
_It was a coil in your chest, a tearing in your hollow guts. You wanted out, wanted to-_

  
_You didn’t know for a second what it was you wanted._

  
_“C’mon,” you yelled at Yoruichi because it was what you knew how to do, “Fucking show me what you got, then!”_

  
_Your heart raced. Anger was safe. Words were poison._

 

* * *

 

 

“Give us your chain of events, if you would,” Unohana said and knelt down on the ground, “Now that everyone is around to hear it.”

  
Askin clinked his spiritual chains together as he crossed his legs, settled down more comfortably. He was annoyed, you could tell, by more than just the many pairs of eyes fixed on him right now.

  
“Who are you again?” he asked, frowning, “Don’t take this as a sign I am not willing to cooperate, by the way. It would be nice to know who’s asking.”

  
You rolled your eyes instinctively because that was something he used to do a lot around you- make terrible puns with his own name. At this moment he did not sound like he was joking at all, though. No sign of recognition.

  
_That’s good_ , Pantera said, _That makes it seem like he doesn’t remember himself at all._

  
Unohana smiled and extended her hand; surprising you and Askin alike.

  
“My name is Unohana,” she said, “One of Soul Society’s captains, the obsolete that title may be at the moment.”

  
”Askin Nakk Le Vaar. But you know that already.”

  
He shook her hand gingerly.

  
“I do. I did not have the time to introduce myself when I healed your wounds.”

  
Askin’s eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach up, check if his neck was still there. It was; but you saw the scars, saw what no healing power could reverse. The leeches were too much part of this world to be ripped out and negated like that.

  
“Now, if you would…” Unohana began and trailed off. She was so polite that you wondered if you had misjudged her; but a breath later you sensed her reiatsu again. It made you flinch, sway just a thought away from running. An abyss. A creature beyond your imagination.

  
Hirako was next to you and patted your arm. A silent comfort.

  
Askin sighed.

  
“Now, from what I have gathered our stories align to a certain point,” he said, twirling his hand in the air, “When our empire attacked the Soul Society I was tasked with investigating your twelfth division and its captain. I infiltrated their place. Moved on. Our people fought yours.”

  
You had heard this part of the story from him before; that he watched the fights unfold and gathered information where he could.

  
_At the cost of my friend’s life_ , you remembered he said, _Bambietta died because I was so busy being resourceful._

  
“When Yhwach used his Auswählen on us I was chosen for the last spot in his Schutzstaffel,” Askin continued, “Which, yes, is a gross name, but as far as I remember he did not give a damn about, well, sensibility.”

  
”I can imagine,” Yoruichi said under her breath, “These men never look past their inflated egos.”

  
Askin reacted to it, looking past Unohana and giving her a smile; amused and spiteful.

  
“If I remember correctly then his judgment was very skewed, yes,” Askin said, “Because the instructions I was given included a list of special war powers.”

  
“Oh?” Yoruichi asked and lifted an eyebrow.

  
“I was very surprised to see it was only men.”

  
“And…?”

  
“Well, Yoruichi Shihouin, I do think that judging by your skills alone you should have been on the list.”

  
She laughed out loud, grinning from ear to ear as she regained her composure. The wasteland had scarred her arms and fingers, too, covering her strained muscles in criss-cross patterns. Somewhere among them was the cut she had needed to escape the prison cell. Drain the blood, dissolve the cage.

  
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said, “Even though I do agree that your king seems to have been a sexist prick. _And_ I did kick your ass.”

  
“Oh, definitely,” Askin replied and his lips twitched, “On both accounts. If what you say is indeed what happened then I hope it will come to bite him in the ass.”

  
“Isn’t he screaming in your head?”

  
“If he is it is very quiet and subdued screaming. Like a little ant.”

  
“A sexist little ant.”

  
Of course their exchange could not go on forever; someone cleared their throat and it made Yoruichi laugh even louder.  
“Yes, go on,” she said and waved the others off. You could imagine that at this point in time she welcomed any sort of relief from the constant serious mood, from having to doubt and plan and mourn all at the same time. You had seen Rukia talk to her once, assuring her that a friend’s death would take time to stop hurting like it did, until it faded into a dull ache. Yoruichi laughed it off, too- because she had to. Because she always had.

  
She stepped back now, returning to where Soifon waited for her. They didn’t hug but their arms touched, shoulders and hands close. Sometimes that was all it needed.

  
“I fought your zero division,” Askin said. It changed the atmosphere in the room immediately; you saw Senjumaru lift her head in the back of the group. It was a small movement but you knew what it meant for people like her; a flick of the wrist and revenge for her allies would be taken.

  
“I died,” Askin added and he laughed, quietly, to himself, “I was arrogant and underestimated them. Yhwach’s Auswählen brought me back in time but I don’t remember killing your elites. I remember slowing them down with my powers and seeing them die.”

  
Unohana did not react at all; her expression never faltered. It scared you more than Urahara’s anger had.

  
“What happened after Yhwach consumed the Soul King?” she asked, ever patient.

  
Askin blinked; once, twice.

  
“That’s where things start to get blurry,” he said and it made you nervous he admitted to it at all, “I remember winning the war.”

  
“How?”

  
He hesitated, looked down at his legs.

  
”I don’t remember how,” he answered, “Which sounds very sketchy, I know. There are a lot of other memories; I can repeat word for word what Lille said to me as this new, barren land awaited us. I remember Yhwach punishing me for failing to kill who I was meant to in the assault.”

  
Askin shifted nervously as he paused, his eyes flitting around the room. No one asked him the questions he expected and you felt his anxiety, shared it, too. A wrong word out here and-

  
“There is an overlay now,” he said, a little hasty, “I have shreds of other memories. Thoughts I had that seemed natural at the time but don’t now. Things that do not add up or make sense.”

  
Kuchiki spoke up first.

  
“That’s awfully convenient,” he said, “All of it. Mind control, someone influencing your thoughts at all times.”

  
“It is, isn’t it?” Askin replied, “But if anything it is working. None of you believe this story. It’s a near perfect dilemma. Even I don’t know if I am lying or not.”

  
You heard someone clear their throat behind you.

  
“I heard something too,” Bambietta admitted as everyone looked at her for answers, “Every now and then. Like static, like- like someone is in my head. When we were out there by ourselves.”

  
“Then why is he saying he had it since the very beginning?” Hirako asked and gestured at Askin, “Shouldn’t all of you have been controlled ever since you got here, then?”

  
“I don’t know, I just- I kept hearing the voices recently, I don’t know how it works.”

  
“Are you trying to get your friend out of this situation?”

  
Unohana’s voice was kind and patient, if exhausted.

  
“I-”

  
Bambietta did not have to finish her sentence, stuck in a corner and put on display.

  
Askin inhaled audibly, just once.

  
Suddenly your lungs hurt and you stumbled, saw everyone else do the same; hands clutched to your chest, mouth agape desperate for air. A lethal dose of oxygen.

  
As fast as the pain set in it disappeared- the constricting feeling gone without a trace.

  
“That’s why,” Askin said cheerfully and coughed, “Excuse me. That’s what I assume got me the wonderful special treatment. My power is very good for crowd control.”

  
In one of the quieter instances during that strange summer between wars he had told you about the Death Dealing; how it felt like someone ripped the skin off his flesh only to sew it back on the wrong way. How it felt like cuts and bruises when there were none.

  
_It makes me sick to even think of it. You’re disgusted too, I can tell._

 

* * *

 

 

_Bambietta and Candice slept close together whenever they could and whenever you saw them. Sometimes Bazz B was there, too, their small pile of Quincy; but it was the two of them by themselves, mostly._

  
_“It’s nice,” Candice told you, “Because we were in those prisons in the Soul Society for a while and it was what I used to do to help her calm down. When she was, y’know, a zombie.”_

  
_“Was that zombie person still around?”_

  
_“Giselle? Yeah, she was. But her powers don’t last forever. They wore off. Bambi lived. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think it is a good idea to take care of Aizen’s soul until we know exactly what is happening above,” Yoruichi said to you and you supposed it was meant to calm you down, “We’ll scout the area, come up with a plan.”

  
You stayed silent.

  
_Rip it from me, rip it out if that’s how you end all this._

 

* * *

 


End file.
